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IN AND OUT OF THE LINES 



IN AND OUT OF 
THE LINES 



AN ACCURATE ACCOUNT OF 
INCIDENTS DURING THE OC- 
CUPATION OF GEORGIA BY 
FEDERAL TROOPS IN 1864-65 



BY 



FRANCES THOMAS HOWARD 



NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON 

THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
1905 







'■;-i-yf!ijrJii i..ury } 



COPYRIGHT, 190S 
BY FRANCES T. HOWARD 



TO THE WOMEN OF THE SOUTHERN 
CONFEDERACY WHO YET HOLD DEAR 
THE FOUR IMMORTAL YEARS OF OUR 
PAST, THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY 

The Author. 



PREFACE 



The account which is here presented was written 
in 1870, but circumstances made its pubhcation at 
that time impracticable. It tells with absolute truth 
the experience of one Southern family during the 
year 1864-1865. There are to-day living witnesses 
who can testify to the accuracy of the recital. 

The story of the war itself, of the battles which 
were fought and of the victories which were won 
by our fathers and brothers, has been carefully writ- 
ten up. There were officers on the field whose duty 
it was to make reports, and since the struggle ended 
men of ability in the interest of history have searched 
out these reports, have sifted the truth from the fic- 
tion, and have written up the story for those who 
come after us. But in the homes of the South, and 
particularly in those districts which were between the 
lines occupied at one time by Federal Troops, at 
another by the Confederates, there were no com- 
manding generals or subordinate officers to submit 
reports of what occurred, and no historian to write 
out the happenings of each day, and yet in these 
homes were enacted some of the most heroic deeds 
and some of the grimmest tragedies of the war. 
Here the South was represented only by her women 



and children, but they often suffered hardships as 
great as were endured on the field of battle, and in 
all their trials they showed an unfaltering devotion 
to the cause. Their story should be written out. 

It should not be written in any hostile or un- 
friendly spirit, because to-day we are again a united 
people ; the Southern States are once more a part of 
the Union, and the Southern mothers of to-day are 
ready to make for that Union every sacrifice which 
could be asked of true patriotism and loyal devotion. 
Only three years since, when we were involved in 
war with Spain, Southern mothers sent their sons to 
fight for the old flag, and the prayers of Southern 
women were offered on every hearthstone for its suc- 
cess. But as a matter of history, the events and 
doings of those years ought to be written out. As a 
matter of common interest the story ought to go 
down to future generations, so that in times to come 
the whole world may know, and particularly the peo- 
ple of the South may know, something of the suffer- 
ings of the Southern women in 1864-65, and some- 
thing of the courage and devotion with which they 
did their part. 

The Author. 
Cement, Ga. 

A/^ril 12, 1905. 



In and Out of the Lines. 



CHAPTER I. 



IN the spring of 1 864, about the middle of 
May, my father left the Confederate Army 

— then at Dalton, N. Ga., some thirty or 
forty miles distant — and came to tell us that 
the army was retreating, and that we must 
go before it. We begged him to let us re- 
main, for we well knew what the fate of refu- 
gees was. To this he at length consented, 
then returned to his command. 

At four o'clock J)n the morning of the 1 8th 
of May one of our servants awoke us to say 
that the army was passing. Dressing hur- 
riedly we hastened to the upper gate, which 
opened directly upon the public road. A 
heavy gray mist at first concealed nearly 
everything from view, save objects only a few 
feet distant, but as the morning advanced the 
fog lifted, and as far as the eye extended 
nothing could be seen but a moving mass of 
men and horses. 

The rail and wagon road — only a few feet 
apart at the gate — run parallel for a mile. 



6 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

For that distance we could see clearly. Such 
a multitude ! I felt inclined to agree with 
our old nurse, as she stood with uplifted 
hands, exclaiming, "I did not know dere was 
so much people in de worl' ! " 

The long night's march appeared not to 
have fatigued the men at all. They laughed 
and joked with each other as they passed, and 
occasionally gave us the cheering assurance 
that they were *' going to Hck Sherman and 
be back next week." 

Several soldiers stopped at the creek and 
made their toilets, and one poor fellow, having 
scrubbed his face until it was scarlet, came 
up to Janet with a Bible in his hand. Stut- 
tering horribly, he asked her to keep it for 
him as it was too heavy to carry longer, and 
he could not throw it away. On every avail- 
able blank spot he had written *'levi Bartlett 
his Booke." 

The advance of Hardee's Corps, to which 
my father and brother belonged, now came 
in sight, and just as we were asking for the 
63d Georgia, my brother hailed us. He had 
hurried on to tell us to meet my father at 
the lower gate. We ran to the house to give 
him breakfast, then hastened to the gate and 
found my father already there. 

Faint and exhausted with the night's march, 
splashed with mud and grimy with the smoke 
of the camp-fire, he looked what he was — 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. f 

a thorough Confederate soldier, who had 
stepped from the ranks a moment to say 
good-by to his wife and children, whom he 
might never see again, and who did it with 
a brave spirit and cheerful voice that they 
might feel the parting less. We gave him 
some refreshment and then a last good-by 
was said. 

There was no time to grieve. We had 
much to do, and but a short time to do it in. 
My father had told us to collect the stock 
and send them off, for if we were prompt 
there was yet time. 

The negroes were perfectly wild with ex- 
citement and incapable of anything, so we 
undertook the task ourselves. Janet and 
Sophy ran up to the hill pasture after the 
flock of four hundred sheep, while Maria and 
I busied ourselves collecting provisions for 
the overseer and servants who were to drive 
the stock. 

In a short time Janet and Sophy returned 
with the sheep, and after driving them to the 
upper gate Janet went to the house and 
Sophy and I to the stables. The overseer 
and house boy had packed the wagon and 
everything was now ready, but one of the 
men had gone to his mother's house, half a 
mile off, and must be sent after ; so mount- 
ing the boy on my pony Gipsey we told him 
to bring the man back as quickly as possible. 



8 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

A half hour passed, still the boy did not 
return. We took the horses to the gate and 
waited. The overseer at length volunteered 
to go in search of the missing ones, and 
jumping on Effie, Sophy's pony, away he 
went. We were in the midst of a cavalry 
brigade, the men continually telling us that 
if we did not hurry the Yankees would catch 
the stock. The overseer had now been absent 
as long as the boy. 

*'Sophy," I said, "we can't stand this any 
longer." 

"No," she replied ; "I am going after them. 
Hold the little bay while I buckle this girth." 

The bay, a half-broken four-year old, and 
nervous as a fine lady, was snorting and paw- 
ing with such excitement that it was with 
difficulty I held her while Sophy put her foot 
into my hand and sprang into the saddle. 
With a bound the bay was off, over the creek 
and tearing through the lines of cavalry that 
opened to let her pass. Sophy's pink dress 
soon vanished amid the countless gray jack- 
ets, and I remained waiting in painful sus- 
pense ; but I had not long to suffer, for she 
soon returned, bringing the lost ones with 
her. Then the cavalcade started with many 
misgivings as to its final destination. 

From this time until five o'clock we busied 
ourselves waiting on the soldiers and distribu- 
ting among them a quantity of clothing de- 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 9 

signed for a regiment in Virginia, but which 
that regiment was destined never to see. 

At five o'clock we observed the cavalry in 
motion, where they had planted a battery on 
the hill just across the railroad, about two 
hundred yards from the house. We were 
wild to see the fight and ran to the brow 
of the hill, though the soldiers tried to make 
us go back. 

Presently the battery opened and the ene- 
my turned and scampered up the road. At 
this moment our old nurse appeared at the 
kitchen door waving a large iron ladle as she 
shouted to the Confederates, " Go it, my 
brave boys, go it!" 

The enemy retreated a half mile, took an- 
other road and soon appeared on the other 
side of the house. The Confederates (Kel- 
ly's brigade of Mississippians) formed on the 
lawn, and over ditch and fence charged up 
the hill. Away went the Yankees, this time 
the Confederates following, yelling as only 
Confederates can yell. After a four miles' 
chase the two parties stopped at Mr. Burton's 
place and fought. 

One hundred and thirty-five prisoners were 
taken and eighteen of the enemy killed. Mc- 
Pherson's Corps coming into view, our men 
beat a hasty retreat, unfortunately leaving 
behind them Colonel Earle, the commander 
of an Alabama regiment. He had sworn 



10 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

never to be captured, and when surrounded 
and ordered to surrender, he shot the man 
issuing the order. Of course he was instantly 
killed. The next morning he was buried, in 
his trousers and shirt, on the terrace near 
Mr. Burton's window, and to this day the 
grass is green over his grave. 

The skirmish, including the chase, took 
but a short time. Long before sunset the 
Confederates returned, bringing with them 
as prisoner a Major Grant, who had lost both 
horse and sword in the fight. Two years 
after one of the farm hands, while cleaning 
up the old field, found the sword and the 
skeleton of a horse concealed in a blackberry 
thicket. 

Among the Confederates who returned to 
speak to us was a Dade County boy about 
seventeen or eighteen years of age. His 
attire was in a very dilapidated condition. 
This was especially true of his hat, which, 
rimless and very nearly crownless, displayed 
to advantage a shock of sandy hair. He rode 
a wiry little mountain pony, almost concealed 
by an enormous cavalry saddle, with a bright 
blanket and a broad, gilt breast-strap. Evi- 
dently the saddle and trappings had been 
intended for a much larger steed than the 
shaggy little fellow that then waddled under 
it. 

"Hello!" said one of the soldiers, as the 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. il 

boy rode up. "If that ain't Dave Pease with 
a new saddle. Say, Dave, while you was 
a-gettin' a saddle why didn't you try for a 
hat, too?" 

"Try for a hat!" said the lad. ''Didn't 
I try? I seed a Yank with a bran new one, 
an' says I, ole feller, I'm a-goin' to snatch 
you ball-headed. I tuck good aim at him, 
but the pony he got skyured and jumped jist 
as I fired, so I missed the Yank and killed 
his horse. I liked to have been pulled to 
pieces among them blasted bushes afore ever 
I could stop the pony. When I did git him 
stopped and rid back, the Yank were gone 
and had toted off his hat. But he'd left 
everything that was on the horse. Here's 
his haversack and his gal's pictur in it. But 
Lord! Lord!" he added with a sigh ; "I did 
want his hat." 

It was now quite late, so we went into the 
house and carried upstairs everything we 
could, the soldiers helping us with the heavier 
articles. We filled one room with provisions 
and kept the others as bedrooms. 

Worn out with fatigue and excitement I 
went to bed at twelve o'clock and slept 
soundly for a few hours. The Confeder- 
ates left before daybreak. This morning, 
like the previous one, dawned amidst a heavy 
fog. Three pickets, in gray overcoats and 
mounted on gray horses, were stationed on 



12 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

the hill a short distance in the rear of the 
house. Just in front of them the fog seemed 
to have settled more heavily than elsewhere, 
entirely hiding them as well as ourselves from 
the enemy who were not more than fifty 
yards distant. We carried our men their 
breakfast, which they ate sitting on their 
horses, and while there we distinctly heard 
the Yankees talking. Between us was a rail 
fence, and on it perched a large, white roos- 
ter still enjoying his nap. 

"Look at that fellow," said a picket in a 
whisper. "The Yanks will make a good 
breakfast of him." 

"No they won't," said Sophy, as she softly 
crept to the fence and laid hold of the unsus- 
pecting fowl, who gave a loud squawk as she 
bore him off in triumph. 

"Run, run ! " cried the picket. "The Yanks 
have heard you." 

We scampered over the stile, while our 
friend dashed around the corner, lying flat on 
his horse as the bullets whistled harmlessly 
over him. 

A ball aimed at the picket buried itself in 
the servants' room window, scattering splin- 
ters over the inmates, and with unearthly 
yells they rushed into the house. 

We locked the doors and seated ourselves 
on the veranda to watch the course of events. 
The first Yankee that came past spoke civ- 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



13 



illy and passed on. The next arrival was 
General Howard with his staff and escort. 
He came into the veranda with several of his 
men, sat down, drew out a map and proceeded 
to ask me many questions, all of which were 
of course answered evasively. He was anx- 
ious to know how many Confederates had 
passed. At length he said, "Did you say the 
whole of Johnston's Army passed on this 
road yesterday.?" 

*'I did not say so," was my reply. 

*'Ah, no," he continued, "it was the corps 
to which your father belongs." 

Receiving no response he continued : 

"To what corps did you say your father 
belonged .''" 

"I did not say he belonged to any corps," 
I answered. 

*'If he is in the army he must belong to 
some corps," he replied impatiently. 

"It would seem probable," was my answer. 

He was very much annoyed. He sprang 
from his chair and, with flushed face, ex- 
claimed: "Madam, when you meet a gentle- 
man, treat him as such!" 

We looked silently at each other and 
quietly left the veranda. 



14 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



CHAPTER II. 

THERE was such a continual knocking at 
the door that my mother said some one 
must remain downstairs, so Janet went 
to the dining-room and I to the parlor. This 
room had two large glass doors opposite each 
other and opening on the two verandas. The 
heavy winter curtains still overhung them, 
and I dropped them so as to conceal myself 
from the many soldiers who filled the piazzas. 

Picking up a book, I sat for a few moments 
trying to fix my mind on the words before 
me. Some disturbance attracted the atten- 
tion of the men and they left the house, and 
in the silence that followed I read under- 
standingly. The only light in the room came 
through one pane of glass which I had left 
bare, but suddenly this was darkened, and, 
glancing at the window, I saw a hideous, grin- 
ning face flattened against the pane. As I 
looked the creature nodded and opened its 
disgusting mouth. I threw down my book 
and fled from the room. 

My sisters were with my mother in her bed- 
room, where I joined them, and was telling of 
my late adventure when we were startled by 
the crash of a falling door. 

*'They are in the kitchen," said my mother. 

We heard the tramp of many feet running 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 15 

across the laundry floor and the next moment 
the pantry door went down, and they were 
hammering at my mother's dressing-room. 
We fled into the dining-room, locking the 
door behind us. Door after door came rattling 
down, while we stood with white faces silently 
looking at one another. Finally some one 
said : "Let us go upstairs." Hardly had we 
reached the hall when the mob entered the 
dining-room, and we raced upstairs and locked 
ourselves in one of the bedrooms. 

There was an awful sound below : not a 
word uttered, only the tramp of heavy feet 
and a hoarse, indistinct, growling murmur. I 
put my fingers on my pulse and found it was 
beating steadily. I remember I thought I 
was quite calm. My sisters were deadly pale, 
though perfectly composed, but my mother 
cried bitterly. No one spoke. Each was 
nerving herself for the coming storm. 

The Yankees thundered up the stairs. Our 
door was locked, but the others were open, 
and we heard them throwing down heavy 
articles of furniture. At last there came a 
pause, followed by a tremendous blow upon 
our door, which instantly flew open. The 
entry and rooms beyond were full of Yankees, 
many of them half nude. They looked silently 
at us for a few moments, then a sergeant, 
followed by a private, motioned back the 
others and entered the room. He walked to 



1 6 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

the bureau, leaned upon it with both elbows, 
looked at himself in the glass, and began to 
caress his moustache. Smihng complacently 
at his reflected image, he turned to us. 

"Ladies," he said, "these fellows are annoy- 
ing you, are they not } " No one replied to 
the question. 

"What are you doing here, sir ? Report 
instantly to your command ! " said a voice at 
the door. 

To our great delight we saw a lieutenant 
walk in, and it was he who had spoken. 

" Did you hear, sir .? " said the officer, 
sternly. 

"I am aware that I have to report to my 
command," replied the man sullenly, but still 
motionless. 

Without another word the officer, a power- 
fully built young man, advanced, and seizing 
him by the collar dragged him to the head of 
the stairs, then, with a well applied kick from 
a foot encased in a heavy cavalry boot, sent 
him flying in the attitude of a diver down- 
stairs. 

While the Keutenant was still at the head 
of the stairs, no doubt admiring his recent 
good deed, several of the men slipped behind 
him into our room. Janet was the envied 
possessor of a seven-shooter which she carried 
hidden in her dress, and for the last quarter 
of an hour had kept her hand upon it. Sophy 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 17 

being of a very excitable nature could not 
quietly endure the way our wardrobes and 
bureaus were being opened and the contents 
pitched about, so she caught Janet by the 
hand, exclaiming : "Give me the pistol, Janet I 
Give me the pistol 1 I'll shoot some of these 
wretches I " 

*'Sit down and behave yourself," said Janet. 

**I won't. Give me the pistol 1 " insisted 
Sophy. 

Janet pulled her down on the lounge and 
said soothingly : **Don't you know that you 
are making matters worse ? " 

"I don't care ! I want to kill them ! They 
ought to be killed ! " she went on. 

"That's true enough," said Janet, "but you 
can't do it." Just then the officer returned 
and the men ran out of the room. 

After expressing his regret that we had 
been so roughly treated, the lieutenant said 
he had thought the house unoccupied, but as 
he was passing one of his men told him there 
were ladies in it, and he had come to investi- 
gate. 

We begged to be put through the lines at 
once, but he informed us it was almost impos- 
sible, as the Rebels were steadily retreating 
and the Federals as steadily advancing, so 
that there were no lines. Then we requested 
that he obtain a guard for us. 

"I will do that with pleasure," said he, and 



1 8 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

began to descend. We cried out to him not 
to leave us without some protection. The 
poor man looked quite bewildered, not know- 
ing what to do. We wanted him to get us a 
guard, and yet we were afraid to be left. 

It is no wonder we were still afraid, for, 
although our room had been cleared, the stairs 
and hall below were full of these horrible 
looking men, scowling and doggedly refusing 
to obey their officer's repeated order to leave 
the house. Those below swung themselves 
up and hung on to the banisters. In vain 
did he order them to go, — they pressed up 
the stairs. 

**Men," he said, *'what do you want ? You 
are behaving more like fiends than men 1 " 

At this moment there was a movement in 
the hall below. An officer was forcing his 
way through the crowd. 

"Randolph," called the lieutenant, "I am 
glad you have come ! I left my arms at the 
tent, or I would have shot some of these 
scoundrels. Help me to clear the house." 

The two young officers proceeded to "clear 
the house" most energetically. The hall and 
lower stairs were soon empty, but the landing 
and stairs above were still full. On the landing 
was a man in a tightly buttoned frock coat, 
and being short was hidden by the taller men 
in front. Lieutenant Randolph soon discov- 
ered him. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 19 

"Major," he said, "is it possible that you 
have witnessed this shameful scene without 
attempting to stop it ? " 

"I — I — I didn't think the men were doing 
any harm," answered the man addressed. 

"Doing any harm ! " indignantly exclaimed 
the lieutenant. *'Don't you know that an 
order was read to every company before we 
left Dalton that 'no occupied house was to be 
entered .? ' " 

The major muttered something indistinctly 
and sneaked off, followed by angry looks from 
the two subalterans. 

The wildest uproar was going on in the 
parlor. The poor piano was being hammered 
as if it were an anvil, and my mother again 
asked for a guard. The officer who had first 
come to our assistance, said : 

"I will go at once to see about it. You 
will not be afraid to remain with my friend, 
Lieutenant Randolph, will you } My name is 
Morrison; I am on General Sweeny's staff, and 
as he condemns any occurrence Uke that which 
has just taken place, I have no doubt I can 
send you protection immediately." 

He bowed and withdrew. Lieutenant Ran- 
dolph spoke very kindly and said that we had 
nothing more to fear, as he was sure the 
guard would arrive in a few moments and he 
would himself endeavor to have returned to 
us all that had been taken. 



20 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

The guard soon came, and the men were 
stationed in the front and rear of the house. 
The two officers left and we descended to see 
what damage had been done. 

Every door was open. Many of the lighter 
articles of furniture were gone : books, music 
and various ornaments had disappeared. The 
floor was covered with valuable old books in 
all stages of mutilation. Janet's beautiful set 
of Schiller — twelve volumes — gone, and she 
made bitter lamentation over the loss. 

The mob could not have been more than 
fifteen minutes in the house, yet in that short 
space of time they had contrived to make it 
a disgusting sight to behold. Upon the 
pantry they had exerted the full strength of 
their genius. An old press, filled with odds 
and ends, — among other things, six old-timed 
bonnets and a calash that had belonged to my 
grandmother, — stood in this room. In another 
press was a quantity of lard, eight or ten 
gallons, and a large package of lampblack, 
and after carefully mixing the two, they 
smeared it over doors, walls and windows, 
and poured it over the floor. The six old 
bonnets and the calash we found in the lard 
can, well saturated with grease, and black 
with the mixture. 

Hearing a scuffle in the next room, we 
went to see what was the matter. There we 
saw a man with a turkey under his arm ajid 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 21 

he halfway out of the window, with the window 
down on him. He kicked and plunged at a 
great rate ; the turkey got away, and the man 
pitched headforemost out just as an officer 
came in. 

A pair of heavy old-fashioned brass andirons 
stood in the fireplace, and Maria, usually the 
gentlest of the gentle, eyed them thought- 
fully. "Mother," she said, "look at the andi- 
rons. We might have broken his back with 
them. What a pity we did not think of it ! " 

Years ago my father had brought with him 
from Paris a beaver hat in a box of exactly the 
same shape, only, of course, an inch or two 
more in diameter. The hat and the box had 
quietly reposed for many a day in the lumber- 
room, but now an enterprising investigator 
ferreted them out. He walked complacently 
along, the beaver under his arm and the box 
held over his head. 

Catching sight of the officer he started to 
run, when the box slipped over his face and 
rested on his shoulders. The officer dashed 
after him, and, in his fright, the man forgot 
the stone terrace which was five feet high. 
Over he went backwards. He scrambled to 
his feet, frantically trying to pull off the box, 
but in vain, and the next minute he was over 
the second terrace. His companions came to 
his assistance, and vigorously jerking the box 
upward got it off. The last I saw of him he 



22 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

was holding his profusely bleeding nose and 
making replies more emphatic than polite to 
the jeers of his comrades. 

We nailed up the doors and windows, and 
remained undisturbed till ten o'clock that 
night, when Lieutenant Randolph came to 
say that he had an order — which he showed 
us — to make a list of the stolen articles. 
He would not have troubled us, he said, to 
make the hst that night, but he had seen a 
lamp burning and supposed that we were 
awake. He suggested that we should go 
with him to each room, as we would be more 
apt to remember what was missing if we saw 
the vacant places. When the list was com- 
pleted he promised Janet she should have her 
Schiller in the morning, and departed. 

I passed a wretched night, dreaming con- 
tinually that I heard repeated the horrible 
sights and sounds of the morning. The ser- 
vants brought us breakfast, and were exces- 
sively indignant with the Yankees, who had 
torn up all their finery, and insulted them by 
saying it **was too good for niggers." They 
knew it was our clothing that we had given 
them to hide. 

Later in the morning our poor, old, asth- 
matic nurse came into the room crying. She 
was given a seat and a glass of water, — all 
that we had. She always had a cup of coffee 
sent her before she got up, and the loss of 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 23 

this stimulant, together with the exertion of 
climbing the stairs, had put her in a pitiful 
condition. She sat there gasping and wheez- 
ing for some time. When she was a little 
more composed I asked her what the matter 
was. 

**0h, I dunno, honey ! " she said. "I dunno 
whedder I'm live or dead." 

"Have the Yankees troubled you as well as 
the other servants ?'' I asked. 

**Dey've took ebry ting I had. Dey 
trowed 'way all my rags what Miss Maria give 
me to sell to de paper man, and tek de bag 
dey was in, an' kill Jack (her pet pig), an' tote 
him off in it. Miss Sophy, dey done pick de 
white sir-chicken clean fum de house to de 
spring !" 

*'Did they take anything from your house.?'* 
Sophy asked. 

"Dey tak ebry ting: I ain't got a bolster, 
nor a piller, nor a sheet, nor a coverlid, nor 
nothin' ! Even to my poor little pullet what 
I raise for a pet, dey tek dat too. I say to 
de man : *For Gord sake leab me my poor 
chicken ! ' He grin at me, an' he say : * Uncle 
Sam gie you plenty chicken by and by,' an' 
wring the poor little fowl neck." 

"Why, we thought the Yankees loved you, 
and would rather give you things than take 
away the little that you had," I remarked. 

She slowly shook her head. "Honey," 



24 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

she said, "I neber knowed a Yankee dat wasn't 
as mean as dirt. Dey skin a flea for his hide 
an' taller. Ebry body say de Yankees goin* 
to free us. Like a fool I belieb 'em, an' now 
dis what dey do. I might a-knowed it. What 
kin you spec fum a hog but a grunt." 

She was known to have quite a quantity of 
silver dollars and small change. I was always 
a great pet of hers, and had once been allowed 
to see a part of this treasure, which she kept 
concealed even from her husband. So I said : 
"Did they find your money.-*" 

She was sitting quietly crying, with her 
elbows on her knees and her chin on her 
hands, but at the mention of her money she 
straightened up, and her dim eyes flashed as 
she cried : 

"I hope de Lord will curse 'em foreber! I 
wish dey was all in torment now. I know 
dey gwine ter go dar. I want 'em dar now. 
I like to see 'em burn!" 

"Then they found your money, did they.?" 

"Dey got it, ebry bit ! I dunno how much 
dere was. I kep' it fust in a pocket an' it 
got to be too much, so I made a orsom brigs 
bag an' put it in dat. It was a bundle big as 
my head wid my hankercher on, an' it was so 
heavy I couldn't tie it to my waist under my 
frock. At fust I tort I'd put it in de ashes 
an' den I tink no, some of 'em might make a 
fire an' melt it all up. So den I took a cheer 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 25 

an' sot in de doo'. I put de bag 'tween my 
knees an' pull my apun down over it. I put 
my pipe in my mout' an' mek bleebe nod, an' 
fust ting I know one Yankee juck up my 
apun ad' snatch de bag out ov my lap, upset 
me an' de cheer, an' gone!" 

*♦ What a shame ! What did you do then .? " 
mother asked. 

"Oh, I git up an' cry an' cry, an' I wish I 
was dead. Dreckly one nasty little freckle 
face one come an' juck my head hankercher 
off my head an' he say: *01e 'ooman, I'm a 
perspirin', so I'll tek dis.' Dat mek me so 
mad dat I try to grab it 'way fum him. Den 
he tell me ef I don't mine my eye he gwine 
run he doughnut tru me." 

We tried to comfort her by telling her that 
as long as we had food she should share it. 
The servants had each received a month's 
provisions, but all had been taken from them, 
and this poor old creature had not tasted food 
since the previous morning. She was faint 
from hunger, so we shared our biscuits with 
her, and, comforted not a little, she hobbled 
downstairs. 



26 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



CHAPTER III. 

OUR friend, Mr. Burton, had a housekeeper 
by the name of Biddy Flanagin. Shortly 
after our nurse had left we were surprised 
by a visit from Biddy, which was indeed a sur- 
prise, for Mr. Burton lived four miles from us, 
and the road was full of the enemy. 

*<Biddy," said my mother, "how did you get 
here.?" 

"Shure I kam through four moil o' thim 
divils o' Yankees." 

"How could you venture.'* You might have 
been killed." 

"Kilt me, is it ? Av ye'd seen what I done 
to wan o* thim yistherday, ye'd be more apt 
to think o' me killin' thim." 

*'Tell us what you did, Biddy," said my 
mother. 

''I've not long to stay, mem, but as I want 
ye to help me, I must tell ye my story. Well, 
mem, the fight that began here day before yis- 
therday inded on our place, an' our boys whipt 
'em. I stood in the basement door watchin' 
thim take prisoners, when McPherson's whole 
corps kam up, an' they had to run. Colonel 
Earle didn't know his min were gone, an' kam 
tearin' round the corner, wavin' his han' at me 
to gwin, for the bullets was flyin' afther our 
min, an' some o' thim hit the wall above me. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 27 

The next minute he was kilt, poor jintleman! 
Afther that, I donno what happened. There 
was the awfullest hurly-burly! About sun- 
down an aid kam to say Gineral McPherson 
wanted quarthers for the night. Mr. Burton 
said, let 'em come. So the gineral kam. 
He's a jintleman, but wan that's in moighty 
low company. He staid all night an' lift 
next mornin'." 

''Why do you say he was in low company.?" 

*'Bekaze the nixt mornin' I sUpt into his 
room as he wint down the front steps, an' 
there was nothin' on the bed but the bare 
matthress, an' I'd made it up mesilf with the 
best bed clothes we had. What do yez think 
o' that, mem.?" 

* 'Biddy," said my mother, *'what do they do 
with all the things they take.? You came 
through the camp and ought to know." 

"Av ye'd seen 'em smashin' all Mr. Burton's 
beautiful china ye'd not ask, mem. What 
they can't use they destroy, jist from the love 
o' distruction." 

"Surely, Mr. Burton tried to hide that val- 
uable old china.?" 

"Oh, yes, mem, he did! But he would 
thrust that thafe av a gardener, Houston, an' 
he bethrayed 'em to the Yankees. They got 
ivery thing we hid — carpets, china, glass, wine, 
an' all. The china and glass is in smithereens, 
an' a pig would scorn the carpets for his bed. 



28 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

To be sure a pig is a far more dacint animil 
thin a Yankee." 

**Did Mr. Burton lose all his fine old wine } 
I hope not," said my mother. 

''He lost all that Houston knew about, 
the villain ! an' him an Englishman same as 
Mr. Burton is. But cook hilped me an' we 
hid a dozen boxes over the scullery, by knock- 
in' up the ceihn'. Neither Mr. Burton nor 
that rascal Houston knows, so maybe we'll 
save it yet." 

"But, Biddy," said Sophy, "tell us what you 
did to the Yankee yesterday. If you hurt 
him badly, I wish I could have helped you." 

"I'll tell ye about 'em, an' then ye'll see 
what I done. Afther the gineral left, wan o' 
the blaggards kam an' asked Mr. Burton what 
o'clock. What does he do but pull out his 
watch ! Would iver a woman a done the like 
o' that } Pull out a gold watch afore a Yan- 
kee! The min hasn't half sinse. Well, the 
Yankee grabbed it out o' Mr. Burton's han' 
an' walked into the basemint. I followed 'em. 
'An' where are yez goin t ' I says. 

"'I'm goin' to burn this old secesher's 
house,' says he. Then he takes up a shovel- 
ful o' coals an' starts upstairs. 

"'Ye'll not do ert while I'm livin',' I says, 
makin' a dive at the shovel. He jist slung 
me back agin the wall so hard it knocked 
ivery bit o' breath out o' me body, an' run 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 29 

Upstairs. Whin I got me breath I dashed 
afther him. He was in the scullery an' he'd 
the shovel in his han', stoopin' down to make 
a fire unther the dresser. I took 'em by the 
tail av his short little jacket an' pulled 'em 
flat on the flure. He dropped the shovel, but 
by a great mercy none o' the coals fell out. 
He was up in a flash an' clubbed his gun an' 
hit me a blow on the chist that sthretched me 
sthraight. I've a black spot now on me brist 
bone as big's me han' where he sthruck me. I 
conthrived to git up, an' I made at 'em. I 
don't know what I done to 'em, but in a sec- 
ond his face was all over blood. He squaled 
like a pig, an' called me a she-divil, an' ran 
clane out o' the house. I sat down on the 
stairs the sickest craythur! An officer kam 
along an' asked me what made me look so 
white, an' I tole 'em one o' the men had 
knocked me down. Then I spied an envelope 
on the flure where the villain had been goin' 
to make a fire, an' I says ^I'll bet his name's 
on that envelope.' The officer picked it up 
an' looked at it. 'It's addressed to a man in 
McPherson's Corps,' says he. *If you take 
this letter to the gineral, I dare say he will 
find the man that sthruck you an' punish him 
as he deserves.' 

"Thin he wint away. I don't care nothin' 
about punishin' the raskill anny more. He 
squaled an' I didn't, so I reckon I hurt him 



30 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

worse'n he did me. If he's aven as sore as I 
am, Fm sorry for 'em, but he shan't keep Mr. 
Burton's watch. Is the gineral here, mem.?" 

''General Sweeny is here, but not General 
McPherson. Go to him. I have no doubt 
he can tell you where to find General McPher- 
son," replied my mother. 

"I'll go at wanst," said Biddy. "Thank ye 
for tellin' me, mem." 

We made her promise to come back and 
tell us the result of her mission. Lieutenant 
Randolph kept his promise, and all through 
the day stolen articles were being brought 
back. Janet's Schiller — all but one volume — 
was returned with the rest. 

In the afternoon Biddy arrived, hot and 
tired, but very triumphant. "Biddy," said 
my mother, "you look well pleased. Is it 
possible that you have the watch.?" 

"I've the watch, mem, an' him that stole it 
will not be apt to stale anny more." 

"Tell us how you got it." 

"Well, ye see, mem, Gineral Sweeny sent 
a guard with me to Gineral McPherson's 
quarthers, so I'd not the laste trouble to find 
'em. He told me to take a seat. *An' what 
do yez want.?' says he. 

"T'm searchin' for a thafe,' I says, 'not that 
one 'ud be hard to fine, but the pertickler 
man I'm in want of is said to be wan o' your 
min, sir.* 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 31 

"'One o' my min,' says the gineral ; 'I'm 
sorry to hear that. What is it that is missin' ?* 
sez he. 

'"I'm Misther Burton's housekeeper, sir,' 
says I, 'an' it's his watch that's missin*. I 
seen the man stale it, an' here's an envelope 
he dropped out o* his pocket,' says I. 

"The gineral looked at the envelope, an' 
thin he wrote a line on a bit o' paper, an' 
sint an orderly off with it. 'I've sint for the 
company named on that envelope,' says he, 
'an' if the man that took the watch belongs 
to it, you ought to be able to ricognize him.' 

'"Niver fear, sir,' I says, 'I've wrote that 
deep on his face, with me nails for a pin, he's 
not been able to wash the letthers out yet. 
I'll know me own han' writin'.' 

"'So ye took the law in your own hands,' 
says he; 'that was not very womanly.* 

"'I don't know exactly what you mane by 
womanly, sir,' I says, 'but I know it wasn't 
manly for him to knock me down with his gun.' 

"'Knock you down.**' says the gineral. 
'What a brute to strike a woman ! He ought 
to be hung.* 

"'Well, sir,* I says, 'I think afterwards I 
gave 'im as good as he sint, for though I've 
a bad pain in my chist where he sthruck me, 
an* am black an' blue with bruises, he'd not 
so much to brag on. His own mother'd not 
know *im now.' 



32 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



'''Here comes the company/ says the 
gineral. He made 'em all stand in line. 
•Now,' says he, 'see if you can fine your man.' 

**I didn't nade to look but wanst. There 
stood the raskill with his face marked for all 
the world like a quilt ready for quiltin' in 
quarther-inch diamonds. I wint up to him, 
an' I says: 'You're the thafe; gimme Mr. 
Burton's watch!' He niver said a word, but 
jist stood trimblin' like a dog that's goin' to 
git a lickin'. The gineral orthered him to 
gimme the watch an' he handed it over at 
wanst. 

"'Now,' says the gineral, 'the mant hat 
sthrikes a woman is not fit to live. Shall I 
have this fellow shot.?' 

" 'No, no,* I says, 'I don't want no more o' 
his dirthy blood on me hands than I got there 
yistherday. Sind 'em away where he can't 
bate no more women. Ye'll not miss him out 
yer army. A man that bates women don't 
bate min, an' it's min haters yer in want of.' 

"The gineral, he laughed, an' he says: 'I 
think we'd betther enlist you. At any rate 
this scoundrel shall go to Chattanooga in ball 
and chain, to work on the fortifications till the 
war's over.* 

"So thin I thanked 'em for his kindness, 
an' kam away. An' now I must be goin*. 
Mr. Burton doesn't know I've lift home." 

A year or two after this a cancer developed 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



33 



on the spot where Biddy had received the 
blow, and she died a death of lingering and 
horrible agony. 

As the best means of protection to our- 
selves, my mother, through Lieutenant Mor- 
rison, offered the lower story of our house to 
General Sweeny, and the offer was accepted. 
He did not disturb us in any way, and we 
saw him only once or twice passing on the 
piazza. Lieutenant Randolph was very kind. 
He helped us at our need and then let 
us alone, but others were not so consid- 
erate. 

Once when he was being thanked for his 
kindness, he said: "I do not wish you to 
thank me. I have only done what I should 
have been a brute not to do, and I hope I 
shall never forget what is due to a woman. If 
you need further assistance at any time, send 
for me and I will come at once." 

These were the words of a man and a gen- 
tleman. In strong contrast were they to 
those of a certain surgeon, medical director 
at this hospital post, who, in reply to a poor 
woman's entreaty that he would not take her 
last chicken, which she was preparing for her 
sick child, said: ''Madam, the earth is the 
Lord's and the fulness thereof. We are the 
Lord's people; therefore, doth this fulness 
belong to us, and this fowl in especial to me." 
That was the end of the chicken. 



34 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



CHAPTER IV. 

ON the morning of the sixth day the camp 
was in great commotion, and by twelve 
o'clock not a man was to be seen. Every 
blade of grass had been trampled out of sight 
and the lawn looked as if fire had passed over 
it. There was the most perfect silence. Not 
a bird or a living thing to be seen. The 
ground was strewn with fragments of books 
and papers, skins of the various animals that 
had been killed and eaten, cooking uten- 
sils, pieces of rails left from the camp 
fires and, last and worst of all, several dead 
horses. 

The servants had all gone with the single 
exception of our nurse, who was so feeble as 
to be a care instead of a help. But we four 
were young, strong and, though unused to 
manual labor, of good courage. From the 
wreck of broken tools two rakes and a broom 
were discovered. The floors of most of the 
lower story were in such a condition they had 
to be raked over twice before the broom could 
be used. The masses of putrid meat we car- 
ried off as far from the house as we dared to 
go and made a fire of the combustible rubbish 
in the back yard. As we stood around it, 
Mrs. Smith, the overseer's wife, came timidly 
from behind the kitchen. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 35 

*'0h, I am so thankful to see you!" she 
said. *' I seed the smoke an' 'lowed the 
Yankees had fired the house afore they left. 
Johnny Smith is with me. He's waitin' be- 
hind the house." 

Johnny soon appeared. He was a lad of 
thirteen or fourteen years of age, and we 
have cause to remember him gratefully 
for he did us many a kindness. Mrs. 
Smith had much to tell. Her pigs and chick- 
ens had all been eaten ; but she was espe- 
cially angry at the death of her cow, which 
was sick and too poor for beef. 

"Though they might well eat my cow," 
she said, "fur she wern't nigh so bad off as 
that old sick ewe that had shed all her wool. 
I seed one of 'em kill her, an' he come an' 
stole my fryin'-pan to cook her in. Her poor 
little lamb warn't a day ole, an' a ole Dutch- 
man come along an' killed hit, an' tuck my 
wash-pot an' made soup outen it in the pot. 
He said him an' his wife was washer-women 
for the orficers. He 'lowed they'd keep my 
pot ; but a orficer made him give hit back 
an' I've hid it under the bed." 

*'Johnny," I said, **what has been your ex- 
perience.?" 

*'The house is there, an' there's some po- 
tatoes in the garden, an' we've got a suit o' 
close a-piece, an' that's about all that's left," 
replied the boy. 



^S IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

"Have you nothing to make bread of?" I 
asked. 

"We had a lot o' flour in barrels — ever so 
many barrels — but they filled all the sacks 
they could fine, an when they couldn't fine 
no more, they tuck two par o' daddy's breech- 
es, what he'd left behind, an* tied 'em up 
round the foot an' filled 'em with flour an' 
sot 'em straddle on the horse, an' that's the 
last dust o' flour we've seen." 

"Ain't it strange the way the Yankees sets 
so much store by combs," said Mrs. Smith. 
"Combs is so scyurce with us anyhow. Johnny 
says they hain't one left. An' my poor little 
Melissey, she jist takes on 'bout the one her 
par give her. One of 'em jerked it off her 
head an' she" — 

The tramp of horses' feet interrupted Mrs. 
Smith. * 'They' re a-comin' back, an' the chil- 
lens is all by themselves," she cried. "Run, 
John, or we won't git thar afore 'em!" 

Just as we hastened in doors, two compa- 
nies of cavalry were dismounting on the lawn. 
One of the captains came to say that they had 
been ordered to our place for the night, so 
we need fear nothing. He seated himself 
on the piazza and seemed to derive great 
amusement from a song in derision of the 
Copperheads, for he sang it to a doleful whin- 
ing tune for nearly an hour. They went 
away early the next morning. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 37 

That same morning we made our first essay 
in cooking. Of course my mother knew how 
things were to be done, but she had never 
done any cooking herself. It was so warm 
it was determined that we should cook only 
once a day, consequently a quantity of bread 
and biscuit were made and baked and spread 
on the table to cool. Janet made some spice 
cakes and had baked one panful, and had the 
other in the stove, when my mother told us 
to. go to the spring for a bucket of water. 
We filled the bucket and as we leisurely 
started up the hill, Sophy looked back. "The 
Yankees are coming!" she cried. ''If they 
beat us to the house, we won't get any break- 
fast." 

We rushed up the hill and dashed breath- 
less into the kitchen. 

"The Yankees! the Yankees! Bolt the 
door!" panted Sophy. 

*'Oh, my goodness, my cookies! What 
shall I do.?" cried Janet. 

''Cookies! Think of the bread," replied 
my mother. 

"Make a big noise with the shovel and 
tongs," said Maria. "They'll think we don't 
hear them when they knock, and we'll have 
time to run upstairs with everything." 

Bang! bang! at the door. Janet rattled 
away with her instruments. Sophy seized 
an armful of bread, Maria swept the cakes 



38 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

and biscuits into her apron, and both disap- 
peared, while I opened the stove, pulled out 
the pan of half baked cakes, and was making 
off with them. 

"Put them back," said my mother. "They 
will see the fire in the stove and know that 
we must be cooking something. Perhaps 
we can make them believe those are all of 
them." 

I replaced the cakes. My mother opened 
the door, and in walked half a dozen Yan- 
kees. They looked suspiciously around and 
one snuffed the air. 

"I smell something good. What's in the 
stove.?" 

"Some cakes," replied my mother. "You 
may take them since I have not the power 
to prevent you." 

*'We'll have a look at them same cakes," 
he responded, and opening the oven door he 
took them out and divided them with his 
comrades. 

"What else have you got that's good.?" he 
asked. 

"Rice and hard tack," said my mother. 

*'Rice and hard tack! I'll see you hanged 
before I'll touch either of 'em. If you ain't 
got nothin' better than them, I won't eat 
nothin' at all." 

You may imagine our distress at this threat. 
Rice and hard tack were their pet aversion. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. ^g 

which fact we learned through our cook be- 
fore she left, who had offered to exchange 
rice for sugar and had her offer rejected with 
scorn. My mother's application of this 
knowledge was useful in the extreme, for the 
man walked out followed by his companions. 
They lounged about the place the whole 
morning and left only when they saw an offi- 
cer coming. 

My mother told this officer how we had 
been annoyed. He said that he had been 
sent in advance of his command, and that 
for three or four days he would be free to do 
as he chose. If we would promise to protect 
him in case the Rebels ever came to our 
house at night he would act as a guard. 

We gladly gave the required promise. He 
remained with us several days and was always 
quiet and civil. Twice he recovered our two 
cows which had strayed into one of the large 
droves of oxen that were being driven down 
to the army. We were sorry when he left, 
for during his stay he had not permitted a 
man to enter the house. 

The cavalry stationed at the village came 
daily to our place to let their horses graze, 
coming at sunrise and leaving at sunset. 
The officers sat in the house while the men 
lay on the grass under the trees. Nothing 
would induce them to be without the picket 
lines after dark for they seemed convinced 



40 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

that the Confederates came to see us every 
evening. 

At this time we learned to appreciate the 
horror of the Egyptian plague of flies that 
swarmed into the house, and when eating we 
had to fan ourselves briskly to keep them 
from entering our mouths with the food. 
At night I have seen strings of them six 
inches long, hanging like bees from anything 
to which they could attach themselves. To 
rid ourselves of this pest we fed them with 
cobalt and sugar. 

There was a Kentucky private named 
Butcher, who came daily after the cavalry 
left to graze his colonel's horse. He was a 
kind-hearted man, and the scenes he had wit- 
nessed at the South made him bitterly regret 
that he had entered the Union Army. Upon 
one occasion he watched me remove a saucer 
of cobalt, against and around which the dead 
flies lay in a ring the heighth and width of 
the saucer. 

*'That's poison, isn't it.^" he asked. 

**Yes. Don't you see what it has done to 
the flies.?" 

*'I suppose you would be glad if it was us 
instid o' them flies," he replied. 

"I certainly should," was my response. 

He looked shocked. *'Surely you would 
not want to look at so many dead men ?" he 
asked. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 41 

"No, of course not. We don't think you 
especially agreeable objects for contemplation 
at any time. We don't want to look at you 
dead or alive. But if we must choose, you 
cannot deny that dead Yankees are harmless 
and live ones are not. Is it any wonder that 
we prefer the harmless ones .?" 



CHAPTER V. 

ONE morning Mrs. Osborne, who lived in 
the village, came to see us. She was a 
very handsome woman, with a brilliant 
brunette skin, dark hair and eyes, tall and 
strong, and of a very determined character. 
After the usual greetings, we asked how 
things had gone with her. 

"Oh," she replied, "I had a royal battle with 
'em last week. As the old nigger says: I 
give 'em glory onct or twict — I did that!" 

"Oh," said my mother, laughing, **how did 
you administer it.**" 

"Well, you see, I was in my room an' I had 
a big dish o* vittals a givin' the chillen a 
snack, when in walks a Yankee dressed as fine 
as a fiddle, an' another one behind him with 
a gun. He had a rale impident look on his 
face. Says I : 'What do you want ? ' 

"Says he: 'I'm a sanitary commissioner. 



42 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

an' I'm come after hospital sheets an' that 
tobacker you've got hid.' 

"Says I: *There ain't no hospital sheets 
hyur, an' if there's any tobacker, I want to 
see it.' 

''Says he : 'I've got a order for to search, 
an' I reckon I'll soon show it to you.' With 
that he turned in to ransackin' everything. 
Says he, a pullin' open a bandbox, 'You've 
eight boxes o' tobacker here, an I'm agoin' to 
find 'em.' 

"Says I, 'It may be the custom o' Yankee 
women to keep tobacker along with thur bon- 
nets, but it's not the custom o' Southern 
women; an' what's more,* I says, 'you've jist 
come to steal an' are actin' of a lie when you 
pertend to be lookin' in a bandbox for a box 
o' tobacker which you know jist as well as I 
do is twict as big.' 

"Says he, a openin' Nancy's little jewally 
box, 'You'd better keep a civil tongue in your 
head or it'll be the worse for you.' 

"The chillen was all huddled together on 
the bed, jist a-cryin' an' a-screamin'. Thinks 
I to myself, maybe I'd better shet up, or 
there's no tellin' but this villain might cripple 
me an' what would them poor little creeturs do. 
Now, my mother was a mighty forehanded 
woman, — one o' the old-time sort that alluz 
had a heap o' bedclose. When I married she 
give me jist as much bedclose as anybody 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 43 

need want. Huckle-back an' broken-back 
an' dimity an' every kine you ever hyearn tell 
of. I kep' 'em in a chist, as the most o' folks 
does thur best things, an' I sot more store 
by them counterpins than anything else I 
had, an' when that Yankee opened the chist 
hit Avere more'n I could stan', so says I: 
'You'll not take them counterpins.' 

"'What's to hinder.?' says he. 'I reckon I 
will,' an' he pulled out the top one. 

"Well, I gethered holt o' the counterpin, 
an' he gethered holt o' the fringe. He pulled 
an' I pulled ; the fringe it give way an' tore 
off in gret, long strips. Then he grabbed the 
counterpin itse'f, an' givin' a big jerk pulled 
it out o' my han'. You may depend I was 
mad. 

"Says I: 'You shan't keep hit, for all 
you've got hit now.' I tuk up a cheer an' hit 
him over the head an' downed him. I histed 
the cheer agin for I 'lowed to beat him com- 
pletely tew death. Says the other Yankee, 
says he: 

"'Don't you hit him agin.' 

"'What have you got to do with it.?' says 
I, fetchen' him a lick side the head with the 
cheer, that sprawled him too. Well, they riz 
a-cussin'. 

"'Shet your mouth!' I says, 'I'm not in the 
habit o' fightin', but when I start about a job 
I'm bound to go through with it. Ef you 



44 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

say another word I'll smash you worse'n I 
did afore ! ' 

*'Each of 'em gethered up a armful o' things 
and started out the door. I tuk the big dish 
the chillen had been eaten out of an' sailed 
it at the sanitary commissioner's head. Hit 
broke smack in two, an' he an' tother one ran 
fur dear life. Thinks I, I'll go to the colonel 
and tell my tale fust, afore they have time to 
git thar ; so I put on my bonnet an' run over 
to headquarters just as I was, in my old 
cookin' frock. There was fifteen or twenty 
Yankees in the room besides the colonel, but 
I wasn't no more ashamed before 'em than if 
they'd been so many niggers. 

"Says I to the colonel, says I: 'There's 
been a man at my house a-stealin'. He says 
he's a sanitary commissioner, an' that you've 
give him a order to search my house for to- 
backer an' hospital sheets. Now I want to 
know if you did .'* ' 

'"1 don't know nothin' 'bout any sich order,' 
he says. 

"'Well,* I says, 'he's told a lie on you, an' 
I've knocked him down for stealin' from me.' 

"'You talk mighty big,' says he. 

"'Not half so big,' says I, 'as I hope to 
talk by an' by. The wind don't always blow 
from the same quarter. I hope hit 'ill soon 
turn an' then I'll have more reason to talk big 
than I've got now.' 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 45 

"Says he: *I s'pose you mean by that, that 
you hope the Rebels will turn an' run us up 
the road as we've run them down?' 

"* That's jist what I do mean,' I says. 

"*You confess to bein' a Rebel then?' he 
says. 

"* I don't confess to nothin' else,' I says. 

"'An' Where's all your men?' he asked. 

"*A11 a fightin',' I says. 

" 'Fightin' who ? ' says he. 

"'My brothers is in Richmond,' says I, 'an' 
Mr. Osborne he went along from here with 
Gineral Johnston; he's in his army by this 
time; leastways, I hope he is. I reckon you 
know now without tellin' who they're fightin'.' 

"'Well,' says he, 'you're such a Rebel, 
why don't you go to your own people for pro- 
tection ? ' 

"Says I, 'we don't need no protection. We 
only want you to make your men min' their 
own business. An' we want you all to clear 
out as fast as you kin.' 

"'I'm sorry I can't oblige you,' he says. 

"'Maybe you kin do this much,' I says; 
'make the one that stole my things bring back 
one par o' sheets. Jist one par. I want him 
to come in rusty close. He was dressed too 
powerful fine awhile ago.' 

" 'What do you want him to bring back only 
one pair o' sheets for?' he says. 

"'Never you mine,' says I; 'jist you send 



46 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

him along. That is, if you're able to make 
him mine,' I says, a walkin' out. He jisl 
looked at me as if he'd like to a kilt me, but 
I never kyured; I was so mad that minute 
I'd druther to a fout than to a eat the best 
dinner ever was cooked. I went home an' 
tuk a cheer an' sot on they peeaszer a-singin'. 
The commissioner was in the house opposite, 
for I seed him come to the door three times 
with the sheets in his ban's afore ever he 
made up his mine to come across. At last 
he opened my gate. 

"'What do you want now.?' I says. 

"T've come to bring back two o' them 
sheets,' says he. 

"'You have, have ye.?' says I. *I thought 
you 'lowed you'd never give me back nothin' 
you stole.?' 

"'Oh,' says he, 'you've been to the colonel 
about it.' 

"'Yes,' says I, 'I've been to the colonel 
onct, an* what's more, I'm goin' agin. I've 
made him make you pull off your fine close 
an' put on that ole knit shirt, an' you look 
jist like the dirty vagabon' you are. You can 
put them sheets down an' go now. I don't 
want you no more at present.' He went off 
cussin' scanalus. The provost marshal got 
a holt o' him that night for somethin' else he'd 
done an' sent him up to Chattanooga, or I'd 
a-done him worse yit." 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 47 

"But Mrs. Osborne," said my mother, 
**how could you strike him? He deserved 
all you did to him, and much more, but I 
don't know how it could occur to you that 
you would be able to knock a man down." 

"Why," she replied, "hit occurred to me 
that he ought to be knocked down, an' there 
wasn't nobody to do it for me so I done it 
myself. It was my duty, and I ginerally tries 
to do that." 

"But weren't you afraid.?" 

"Not a bit I The most of 'em's so cowardly 
they'll run the minute you show fight. Besides, 
the Colonel they had's been ordered to the 
front. He was a hateful man, but the new 
one. Colonel Dean, they say he's a gentleman, 
an' the provost marshal's a decent man. He 
turned Dr. Wright out o' my house the other 
day. You haint never seen Dr. Wright, have 
you.?" 

"No, I believe not," replied my mother. 

"Well, he's a gret, big, fat man. The hate- 
fullest lookin' creetur you ever see." 

"What was he doing at your house.?" 

"You see, I board eight o' the orficers, an' 
my well's the best in the town, for the Yan- 
kees throws all sorts o' nasty things in the 
other wells jist to spite the women, though 
they have to drink the dirty water thurselves, 
but they don't keer for that. As I was sayin', 
my well's the best, an' the orficers won't let 



48 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

'em throw nothin' in hit, so the water's clean. 
One of 'em told Dr. Wright about hit. He's 
sick an' wants clean water to drink, so that's 
why he come to my house." 

"How did you manage to send him off.?" 

"This was the way of it," she replied. "The 
orficers had all eat thur dinners an' gone when 
Dr. Wright walked in an' sot down. Says he : 
*rm a comin' to stay here. I hear you've 
got good water on this lot.' 

"I hadn't no notion o' lettin' him stay, so I 
says: *It don't make no difference 'bout the 
water. I aint got no room for you an' you 
kaint stay.' 

**'I don't know as I shall ask you,' says he. 
He had two men with him. 'Pull off my 
boots,' says he to 'em, *I feel bad an' want to 
go to bed.' 

"''Tain't no use to pull off your boots,' I 
says. *I tell you, you kaint stay.' 

"*An' I tell you I will stay.' 

"Says I : 'I tell you once more to git out 
of this house.' 

***An' I tell you once more that I'm a-goin* 
to stay, an' make you wait on me, too,' says he. 

** ''Tain't worth while argifyin' 'bout hit,' 
I says. 'I've told you to git out, an' you 
won't; now I'm goin' to put you out.' I run 
over to the provost marshal's an' told him 
how Dr. Wright was a-doin', an' he come 
straight on back with me. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 49 

**Says he to Dr. Wright : *You kaint stay- 
here if Mrs. Osborne don't want you.' 

'*Says the doctor: ^I'm not goin' to leave 
till I git ready.' 

"'You'll have to be ready pretty quick then, 
or I'll have you picked up an' sot out in the 
street,' says the provost. 

*'Dr. Wright, he got up then an* left. 
Sich cussin' as he done ! I never hyearn the 
like afore, even from a Yankee." 

*'We have been very fortunate," said my 
mother. ''They have never used bad lan- 
guage in our presence." 

"Well, you have been," repUed Mrs. Os- 
borne. "I've hyearn tell o' heathens many 
a time, but I never seed 'em afore. I jist 
tole one of 'em so the other day, right flat 
out. Says I: *You are heathens an' nothin' 
but heathens. You don't know nothin' that's 
good, but you know an' you do more devil- 
ment than was ever hyearn of or thought of 
before you come.' He jist laifed. He was 
tickled putty nigh tew death. I couldn't a 
paid him no higher cormpliment." 



W 



CHAPTER VI. 

E had not seen Biddy since the memo- 
rable day of her visit to General Mc- 
Pherson. We were wondering what 



JO IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

had become of her when who should appear 
but Biddy herself. 

''I've been afther thim agin, mem," said 
she to my mother. 

"On the rampage and off the rampage; 
sich is life," quoted Sophy. *'What have 
you and the Yankees been doing to each 
other .'^ Have you been laying off any more 
quilts on their faces .'' " 

Biddy laughed. **No, mem," she replied. 
**ril not fight 'em with me nails anny more. 
A man's strong, a woman's wake, an' I'm 
afraid I got the worst o' that battle, for it 
pains me terrible in me chist ivery breath 
I draw." 

*'You should see a doctor," said my mother. 

"There's none o' ours left," she replied. 
**An' it's not on me I'd let a Yankee docthor 
put his dirthy paws ; besides, I'm not so bad 
hurt but what I can give 'em more throuble 
yit. I've got wan o' thim in a scrape this 
mornin'. I'll tell yez about it. Ye see the 
women around us pick birries and sells 'em 
in the village. They get atables an' some- 
times money for 'em. I want a hape o' things 
mesilf, so I thought I'd go out an' thry me 
luck birryin' an' maybe I'd make a little 
money. 

"I started early, the birries was plinthiful, 
an' I picked a quanthity. It was tin o'clock 
whin I got home. Cook met me on the ter- 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 51 

race, an' sez she: 'They've been here agin, 
an' took ivrything they lift afore. All the 
onions out o' the garden, an' aven the hat off 
Mr. Burton's head.' 

"'Which way did they go.^' I says. 

"'Down the lane,' says she. 'They said 
they was goin' to the village.' 

'*rd come a good piece an' the village 
road an' hadn't seen a sign o' thim, so I says : 
'I belave it's at the wather station they be- 
lang, an' I'm goin' afther thim.' Cook she 
thried to stop me. 

"'They'll be afther killin' you dead this 
time,' says she, 'av ye don't let 'em alone.' 

"'I'll take the chance o' that,' I says. I 
wint down to the gate, but the ground was 
so hard, not a blissed hoof mark could I see. 
I lint agin the post thinkin' how could I 
thrack 'em. Thin I seen an onion palin' on 
the ground an' remimbered cook said they'd 
took the onions. All right, thinks I ; I've 
got ye now. An' I followed thim clane to 
the wather station, a matther o' four moil. 
The first thing I seen was Mr. Burton's hat 
on wan o' their dirthy heads. I wint sthraight 
up to 'em. 'I've come for that hat,' I says. 

"'Which hat.?' says the Yankee. 

"'The hat you've got on your head,' I says. 
'You stole it, an' I'm goin' to make you give 
it back.' 

"*Make me, then,' says he, laughin*. 



52 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



**'l don't want no throuble about yez,* I 
says. 'Ye're not worth it ; so ye'd betther gi' 
me the hat at wanst. Av ye don't,' I says, 
'Vm goin' to the village to Colonel Dean, an' 
thin ye'll see if I can't make ye.* 

"Mem, he wouldn't do nothin' but laugh. 

"'Here's only fifteen or twenty of us,* says 
he. *Why don't you go to work an' give us 
the thrashin' we're nadin .?' 

"Says I : 'there's more av ye than there's 
good av ye. I'd not bemane mesilf by 
touchin' yez. Av ye had the sperrit av a 
hen,* I says, 'ye'd not be makin' game av a 
dacint woman.* They laughed an' laughed. 
I seen I couldn't do nothin' with 'em, so I 
says : 'I'm goin' to the Colonel.' 

"'It's wishin' you a pleasant thrip, I am,' 
says he. 

"Tired as I was I walked clane to the vil- 
lage an' seen the Colonel. He said he'd give 
'em fits. He sint a guard up to the wather 
station with orders to make that scamp take 
back Mr. Burton's hat an' the other things 
he stole, an' he's to wait till I get back to see 
if all's right." 

A few days after we saw Biddy again, 
when my mother asked her if she had tri- 
umphed over that Yankee as she expected. 

"Indade, an' I did, mem," said she. "The 
Colonel's made the very fellow that stole Mr. 
Burton's hat stay an' be our guard. He's 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 53 

moighty light-fingered, but we watch 'im 
close an' he's not much chance o' stalin'. 
He's a civil spoken chap, an' that's much 
betther than the rist av 'em." 



About a mile from us there Hved in one 
large house four families who had left Vir- 
ginia, hoping to find a haven of rest in upper 
Georgia. They had been here only a few 
months when the Yankees came, and we had 
not seen them since our army left. One 
afternoon we were pained to learn that three 
of the children were ill, — one of the three 
supposed to be dying, — and my mother at 
once sent Janet and myself to assist in 
nursing. 

The poor, young mother sat clasping in 
her arms the wasted figure of her dying child. 
She would let no one touch her baby but sat 
looking into its hollow eyes with a face of 
pitiful anguish. In a short time all was over 
and the poor, little sufferer at rest. 

The night was singularly beautiful and 
the moon's soft light subdued all that the 
ravages of the past few weeks had made 
harsh and irregular. A whip-poor-will's plain- 
tive cry was the only sound that broke the 
profound silence as I stood on the piazza and 
looked out on the meadow and quiet stream 
before me, with a heart full of gentler emo- 



54 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

tions than I had known since we had been in 
our enemy's power. A young girl, a sister 
of the mother so lately made childless, joined 
me, and I made some remark to her on the 
beauty of the night. She shivered as she 
said: 

"Once I loved the moonlight, but now it 
only brings back the most awful night of my 
life." 

There was such depth of feeling in her 
tone that I did not venture to speak again. 
After a short silence she continued: 

"It was on a night as beautiful and bright 
as this that they murdered my brother." 

She looked wistfully at me, as if appealing 
for sympathy. I said hesitatingly : "Was it 
in Virginia.'^" 

"No; it was in East Tennessee," she re- 
plied. **We lived there, though the rest of 
our family were in Virginia." 

Covering her face with her hands she 
leaned in silence against a pillar. At length 
she said : 

"May I tell you about it.^* To-night it 
seems as if my heart will break if I do not 
speak of him to some one." 

With an unsteady voice I expressed my 
sympathy and she went on. 

"My brother had been two years in the 
army when he took a violent cold from expo- 
sure, and suffered so much from rheumatism 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 55 

that he was discharged from active service 
and made a conscript officer. Where we 
lived there was the bitterest feeUng possible 
between the Unionists and the Confederates. 
Several of our friends had been most brutally 
treated, and even my father was notified that 
if he did not immediately leave his house, it 
would be burned. 

**He received the notification in the morn- 
ing and set off at once to the nearest town 
to make arrangements to take us all to Geor- 
gia the next day. He was not to return that 
night, but my brother came home in the after- 
noon. We were very much alarmed and 
begged him to follow my father. It was 
known in the neighborhood that he had been 
appointed as conscript officer, and we had 
heard terrible threats uttered against him, 
but we could not persuade him to go, for he 
said no one but ourselves knew that he was 
at home and he would not leave until the 
next morning, when we all left, being sure 
he was perfectly safe. 

"The afternoon passed quietly ; we saw no 
one, and by night our fears were quieted. 
We sat on the piazza in the moonlight, as 
bright and as quiet as this, making plans for 
the future, until my mother called us in. 
My brother went upstairs. My sisters and I 
were to occupy the same room with my 
mother, which was on the ground floor and 



56 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

opened on the piazza. We slept soundly un- 
til between twelve and one o'clock, when 
there came the most terrible awakening! 
Our door was broken down and a company 
of Yankees, whooping and yelling, cursing 
and swearing, rushed in. They asked for 
my brother and my mother said she did not 
know where he was. 

"'That's a lie,' said one of them. In the 
bright moonlight we recognize him as a class- 
mate of my brother's, who had formerly been 
in and out of our house as often and as famil- 
iarly as if he were a relative. 'That's a lie,' 
he repeated, 'for he hasn't left the house, and 
you know it. He's sure to be upstairs, boys.' 

"Some of the men ran upstairs and we 
tried to follow, but the others held us back. 
They soon returned, bringing my brother 
with them, and when we asked what they 
were going to do with him, they replied : 

" 'Just going to make him take the oath.* 

"We begged that it might be taken in the 
house where we were, but they dragged him 
out in the yard. I broke away from those 
who held me and ran up to my brother, and 
putting my arms around his neck, held him 
fast, so that they could not hurt him without 
first hurting me. He told me to let him go. 
'You can't save me,' he said, 'and they may 
kill you, too.' But I would not let him go, 
and the captain, the one we recognized, 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 57 

wrenched my hands from my brother's neck, 
lifted me up and flung me as far as he could. 
Then they fired. I rose and ran to my 
brother, but was too late, for they had killed 
him, and they continued to fire at him as he 
lay dead on the ground. The blood was 
pouring from his wounds and they would not 
let me touch him. At last they let us go, 
mounted their horses and rode away, leaving 
us alone with our dead in that still, bright 
moonlight." 

After that night I never saw this girl again, 
for she died during the summer. 



CHAPTER VII. 

LATE one afternoon a train of sutler's 
wagons stopped at our spring. The sut- 
ler's wife informed us that they were 
very much alarmed, fearing that the Rebels 
would attack them in the night. They had 
pushed the teams hard all day, hoping to 
reach the village before night, but the horses 
had given out and they were obliged to stop, 
although but a mile and a half from their 
destination. There were some grounds for 
the woman's fears, for the Confederates had 
several times lately put torpedoes on the rail- 
road which had blown up a number of engines, 



58 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

and they had captured the stores with which 
the trains were loaded. They had also cap- 
tured some wagon trains. A Yankee major 
once told me he would rather be the leader 
of the forlorn hope, in storming the strongest 
fort in the Confederacy, than to make the 
trip from Chattanooga to Atlanta. 

We had shut up the house for the night, 
and were going upstairs, when some one 
tapped lightly at the door, and on opening it 
there stood a man in full Confederate uni- 
form. You cannot imagine how great a 
shock it was, for we thought of the Yankees 
at the spring not a hundred yards distant. 
On perceiving him Janet said : 

*'Don't stand in the door ! The light shines 
full upon you and the Yankees may be here 
at any moment." 

"They will hardly venture to a Rebel 
house at this hour of the night," he replied, 
not moving. 

"Oh, are you really a Confederate.''" ex- 
claimed Janet in a suppressed tone. 

He extended his arms. ''Look at these 
buttons," he said. **Don't you know them.-*" 

"But," repHed Janet, "it is very easy for 
a Yankee to put on a Confederate coat, and 
it is a cruel act if you are deceiving us. You 
can gain nothing and only inflict useless pain 
on us." 

The man looked her steadily in the face. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 59 

**I tell you I am a Confederate," he said. *<If 
you want proof you shall have it before 
morning. We intend to take this wagon 
train, and I want you to tell me how many 
Yankees are guarding it." 

His accent and appearance were unmistak- 
ably Southern, but his perfect unconcern 
made us doubtful. If he were a Confederate 
this was as foolish as it was dangerous ; still 
it was hard to distrust one who wore that 
uniform. 

Janet said, after a moment's pause : "We 
can't tell whether you are a Yankee or not. 
If you are a Confederate we are sorry we 
don't know how many Yankees there are at 
the spring, for it was dark when they came, 
and we haven't counted them; but I hope 
you may catch every one of them. If you 
are a Yankee," she hesitated a moment, ''you 
can learn nothing from us that you do not 
already know. I mean that we, like all true 
Southern women, will aid our soldiers when- 
ever and wherever we can. That our love 
for them and for the cause for which they 
fight is, if possible, greater than our detesta- 
tion of you." As she spoke he stepped back 
into the shadow of the house. 

''You will know between three and four 
o'clock to-night whether I have told the 
truth," said he, then vanished in the dark- 
ness. 



6o IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

We did not know whether to laugh or cry, 
for the sight of that uniform had unnerved 
us completely. One moment we rejoiced at 
the prospect of happiness in store for us, in 
case the Confederates whipped the Yankees 
at the spring, and the next we were ready to 
cry for fear it was only a spy we had seen. 
The absolute certainty that we would be burnt 
out of house and home, in case of a fight, did 
not occasion us a moment's uneasiness, and 
when this fact was suggested it only served 
to give rise to a discussion of the articles that 
would be most useful, and which we should 
endeavor to save. When our pow-wow was 
at its height there came a loud bang at the 
door, and as my mother opened it a Yankee 
lieutenant and two privates walked in. 

"Madam," said the officer, "two Rebels 
were seen entering this house not a half hour 
since. Where are they.!*" 

"No one is here besides my daughters and 
myself," replied my mother. 

*What has become of them, then.?" he 
asked. 

"A Yankee spy in Confederate uniform 
has been here," said Janet. "As he was cer- 
tainly one of your men, you can have no diffi- 
culty in finding him." 

"Which way did he go.?" asked the lieu- 
tenant. 

"We did not notice," replied Janet, *'but 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 6 1 

I have no doubt he went to the spring to 
rejoin his companions." 

''That is impossible," said he. "There is 
not a Rebel uniform in our camp, and I sent 
no spy." 

'T think," said my mother, "you should 
search the house. You will then be satisfied 
of the truth of my statement, and I hope will 
not find it necessary to annoy us again to- 
night." 

"If you will give me your word of honor," 
said he, "that there are no Rebels here, I 
will believe you." 

"I have said all that I intend to say upon 
this subject," she replied. "Janet," she con- 
tinued, "give me the light. I will show this 
person over the house myself." 

Taking the lamp she walked forward, the 
three Yankees following, and we bringing 
up in the rear. The officer looked shame- 
faced enough, and continued to repeat that 
he believed her. But she was inexorable. 

"You will fail in your duty, sir," said she, 
"if you do not effect a thorough examination 
of these very suspicious premises." 

The poor creature remarked that he was 
"very tired, had marched twenty miles that 
day, and was sure there were no Rebels in 
the house since she was so eager to allow 
him to search it." My mother would not 
notice him except to call his attention to the 



62 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

bureau drawers and bandboxes, which she 
opened for his inspection. We went through 
every room and at length the woodhouse was 
reached. She advised him to cHmb into the 
loft, as it was large, and might easily contain 
many Confederates. 

"li there are any Rebels up there," said 
he impatiently, "they may stay, for I am 
tired to death and won't walk another step 
to-night." He whirled around and stalked 
out followed by the two privates, giggling. 

For the third time we went upstairs that 
night. We sat up until day began to dawn 
but not a Confederate did we see, and the 
Yankees went on their way rejoicing, though 
during the day one of this same company 
returned. He laughed very much at his 
lieutenant's timidity, saying that he was 
well known as the biggest coward in their 
army; also that it was the subtler himself 
we had seen in Confederate uniform the pre- 
vious day, and contemptuously adding that 
the miserable wretch was a Georgian and a 
deserter from the Confederate army. 

One afternoon Sophy and I discovered a 
shadowy looking gray horse creeping about 
the lawn, whom we captured and put into 
the stable. We named our discovery Yan- 
kee, for we said, "if he ever proved refractory 
it would be a satisfaction to beat him." Poor 
old Yankee! He never deserved or received 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 63 

a whipping, but served us faithfully, and 
finally met with a violent death at the hands 
of his namesakes. We petted and fed him 
so that he soon gained flesh and strength. 

We were anxious to see the McDonalds, 
friends of ours, who lived five miles distant 
on the bank of the Etowah. Mr. McDonald 
had been to see us about two weeks after the 
Yankees came, though he said but little as 
to what had happened to his family. Of 
himself he told us that the Yankees had 
carried him three times off to the woods to 
hang him, but each time he had made him- 
self known as a Mason and was released. 

After mxuch persuasion my mother con- 
sented that we should go to his house, so 
Yankee was put in the buggy and Sophy, 
Johnny Smith and I drove off in high glee. 
For two miles or so our way lay through the 
woods. As soon as the main road was 
reached we met a picket who stopped us and 
civilly asked where we were going. On being 
told he said we "must go to headquarters 
and get a pass from Colonel Sampson." 

Sophy and I were frightened and wanted 
to go home, but the picket would not let us, 
so to Colonel Sampson we had to go and 
were both alarmed and indignant at our 
reception. The room was full of officers, 
lounging on sofas, smoking, laughing and 
talking at the top of their lungs, but some 



64 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

of them stopped as we entered and stared 
fixedly at us. One, who sat in a chair tilted 
against the wall, with his feet on another, 
nodded to us. 

"Take a seat, ladies," he said, lazily puff- 
ing out a volume of smoke and stretching his 
arms above his head. *' Any thing wanted.?" 

I hastened to explain that we wish to see 
Colonel Sampson for the purpose of obtaining 
a pass to go to Mr. McDonald's house. 

*'I have the honor to be Colonel Sampson," 
he replied. ''What is your name .?" 

"Florence Henry," I replied. 

*'Who is that with you.?" 

"My sister," I said, "and the boy who 
came with us is holding our horse." 

"What is your sister's name.?" 

"Sophy Henry." 

"The boy's.?" 

"John Smith." 

"How old are you and your sister.?" 

"I am nineteen and she is eighteen," I 
replied. 

"How old is the boy.?" 

"He is thirteen." 

*'How far from the village do you live.?" 

"A mile and a half." 

"How near the railroad.?" 

"We live only a few hundred yards from it.'* 

"How long do you wish to stay at Mr. 
McDonald's.?" 



IX AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



65 



**I don't know exactly — perhaps until this 
afternoon." 

"Well," said he, bringing down his chair 
with a thump, and rising, ''I guess I'll let 
you have a pass this once." 

We left as soon as the pass was received, 
a loud burst of laughter from the officers 
hurrying us down the steps and making us 
wish heartily that we were at home. 

At the crossroads, a mile further on, we 
met three pickets who demanded our pass. 
The first one, while examining it, held it 
carefully upside down, then passed it to the 
next, who also held it upside down ; the third 
did the same thing and finally returned it to 
me with the remark that it was all right, and 
we might go on. Not one of the three could 
read. 

We found the ladies of the family quite 
well and their experience similar to ours. 
Julia McDonald had a Confederate coat and 
a pistol that one of our men had given her 
to keep on the day our army left, and she 
wished to show them to us ; so we went into 
her room and, after carefully locking the 
door, she exhibited her treasure. The guard 
who had been stationed there, suspecting 
something, pushed hard against the door, and 
easily broke the frail fastening, but quick 
as he was we were quicker. Sophy and I 
were sitting on the bed with the coat between 



66 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

US, and Julia was leaning over us with the 
pistol in her hand. 

The instant we heard him at the door we 
spread our dresses over the coat, Julia slipped 
the pistol in her pocket, and I picked up a 
Hafpers Weekly which contained an account 
of the fight that began on our place and 
ended at Mr. Burton's, so by the time the 
door opened we were intently engaged look- 
ing at the picture of Mr. Burton's house. 
Three pairs of coldly, astonished eyes looked 
up at the guard, who was quite taken aback, 
and muttered something about hearing a 
noise, and thinking the boys were troubling 
us, had come to turn them out. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

ONE afternoon as we were sitting in the 
parlor Janet happened to glance through 
the opened door and cried out that she 
saw Rose and Julia, two of Mr. McDonald's 
daughters, riding across the lawn, and we 
ran out to meet them. 

««Why did you come so late.?" I asked. 
Julia laughed as she replied : "We've been 
on the way since nine this morning." 

"Since nine, and it is now nearly five. 
Where have you been.?'* 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 67 

"We flanked the pickets," she said. 

"But why? Wouldn't Colonel Sampson 
give you a pass.?" 

"No, he would not. Let us get out of the 
sun and I'll tell you all about it," 

We went into the house and gathered 
round her to hear her story. 

"As I said," began Julia, "Rose and I 
started at nine o'clock this morning. The 
pickets at the crossroads let us pass as soon 
as we told them we were going to headquar- 
ters, but Colonel Sampson bristled up as soon 
as he saw me." 

"I begged you not to wear that gray jack- 
et," interrupted Rose. **It looks just like a 
Confederate's." 

"It's no business of his what I wear," 
Julia retorted, "and you must not interrupt 
me again. Well," she continued, "he looked 
as if he would like to eat me, but I was as 
polite as possible, and asked for a pass to 
come here. He ordered me to *pull off that 
confounded Rebel jacket' 

"*It's my jacket,' I said. *No Confederate 
soldier has ever had it on.' 

"*I don't beUeve you,' he replied. *What 
are those captain's bars doing on the collar.?' 

***! put them there by way of trimming,' 
I said. 

"'If you don't pull off that jacket/ re- 
turned he, 'I'll do it for you.' 



68 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

"I was afraid that he would do as he said, 
so I took it off. Then he showed us a pair 
of gloves. 

"*Look here/ said he, 'these belonged to 
a Rebel we chased so hard the other day, 
that he dropped them. I'll put them with 
your jacket.' 

* "My jacket,' I replied, *would be honored,* 
and I took up the gloves and kissed them. 
This made him furious, and he declared that 
not only would he forbid our coming here, 
but we should not have a pass to go any- 
where.' After lecturing us for our sins of 
omission and commission for about an hour, 
we were allowed to go. Rose wanted to go 
home, but I was determined to come here; 
so we flanked the pickets, lost our way in the 
woods and, after wandering about for a long 
time, happened on the right road, and here 
we are." 

**I am afraid you have been very impru- 
dent," said my mother. 

"No," she replied, "I don't think what we 
have done to-day will make a bit of differ- 
ence. Since Maggie swam the river at night 
three weeks ago, they have been determined 
to do us some great harm, and I want to 
know what it is to be. The sooner the 
better." 

They left our place about sunset, and little 
did I think we were bidding Julia a last fare- 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 69 

well. A year after I saw Rose again, but 
Julia had met her tragic death. The sisters 
were both widows and quite young. Julia, 
I believe, was then not twenty. Perhaps it 
will be as well to tell their sorrowful story, 
although I did not hear it until after our 
armies had surrendered. 

ROSE Mcdonald's story. 

"After we left your house," said she, "we 
went directly home, passing the pickets at a 
gallop, but when we arrived we were met by 
a guard furnished with an order for our 
arrest, and an ambulance to take us to the 
village. We were allowed to pack a trunk, 
and^we squeezed in a good many books, as 
we did not know how long we were to be de- 
tained. My mother prepared a lunch for us, 
and we and our trunk were put into the am- 
bulance, then hurried away, but we had not 
gone a half mile when the guard took our 
lunch from us and ate it. 

*'On reaching the village we were taken 
at once to Colonel Bradbury, who was then 
in command. He was very stern with us, 
but I don't remember what he said, I was 
so frightened, and I cried all the time. We 
asked why we were arrested. He would not 
tell us, but said we would soon have company 
as you and Sophy were to be arrested next 



70 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

day. Indeed, he showed us the order with 
your names on it, and the fact that Colonel 
Dean took command the day following was 
all that saved you from our fate. Colonel 
Bradbury did not detain us long ; then 
the provost-marshal put us in a room upstairs, 
and later on, when there were music and 
dancing below, some officers came upstairs 
and asked us to dance. 

"I said nothing, but Julia said to them : 
*We are prisoners and I think your request 
an impertinence.* I continued to cry, there- 
by vexing Julia very much ; and she rebuked 
me for having so little self-control and for 
giving our enemies the pleasure of seeing my 
tears, but I could not help myself. 

*'The next day we were shipped to Nash- 
ville, where we were marched about the 
streets until worn out. Finally we were 
taken to the Penitentiary and given food 
consisting of stale beef liver and sour bread. 
There were many women imprisoned there 
for their political sentiments, and several 
were from Georgia. After an hour's rest we 
were sent on to Barrack No. i, in Louisville, 
where for six weeks we endured a living 
death. We slept on the bare floor without 
a pillow, blanket or bedding of any kind, and 
were never alone^ for day and night an armed 
guard was with us. I could not sleep and 
begged the doctor for morphine, and when 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. yi 

given some it had no effect. During the six 
weeks of our stay in the Barrack we had not 
once a change of clothing, for our trunk had 
been rifled on the way from Nashville to Lou- 
isville, and when it reached us it was empty. 

"At last we were removed to the Female 
Military Prison, but here, as at the Barrack, 
there was no bedding. After a time I sick- 
ened and lay for several days unnoticed on 
the bare floor, suffering from a scorching 
fever. The doctor said I must bathe in cold 
water, and I followed his directions though 
it nearly cost me my life. I thought I was 
dying when a lady sent me a glass of hot 
whiskey and water, which I drank, and in a 
half hour the measles began to show. Why 
I did not take cold I cannot imagine, but I 
soon got better though the measles spread 
rapidly, there being twenty cases at one time, 
and it was not until we all were nearly well 
that a scanty supply of straw mattresses was 
sent us. 

"It was during my illness that I first saw 
the anomalous creature that was put over us 
for our sins, and I remember lying in a half 
stupor and wondering what the thing was. 
The dress was that of a man, but the braided 
hair and skinny, shrewish features were those 
of a woman. Bitter experience soon taught 
me to know this thing well, for it was a 
woman — the prison doctor. 



72 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

**If ever a fiend in human guise walked 
this earth it did it in that woman's body. 
Her character was a combination of brutal- 
ity, malice and cowardice. The white guards 
pitied us and occasionally did us a kindness, 
and for this reason she had them removed, 
negroes being substituted. But these negroes 
proved respectful and as kind as the white 
guards had been, and sometimes they gave 
us sewing to do, honestly paying for the 
work. One day I sewed on some stripes for 
a guard, and receiving a quarter of a dollar 
in payment with which I bought a broom for 
none was furnished us. The Doctor bor- 
rowed it one day to 'have the kitchen swept,' 
she said, and promised to return it. Ten 
days passed and I saw nothing of my broom. 
Several times I thought I would ask her for 
it, but my courage failed, for she was such 
a tiger cat I was afraid to make her angry. 
One day Mrs. Moon, one of the prisoners, 
was sitting in our room, and she said : *Your 
broom is still in the kitchen, why don't you 
go and get it.?' 

***I am afraid of the Doctor,' I replied. 

*"Go and get it now,' said she. 'I'm with 
you, and if you have to fight her, I'll hold 
your bonnet.' 

"Still I was afraid, though Mrs. Moon was 
both strong and courageous, but I knew that 
the Doctor, with her skinny, little frame, was 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 73 

as wiry and as vicious as a half-starved wild 
cat. At last Mrs. Moon persuaded me to do 
as she wished, so I went to the kitchen and 
returned with the broom. 

"'Put it where the Doctor will see it as 
she passes your door,' said Mrs. Moon. *It 
will be well to have this matter settled 
promptly.' 

"I did as directed, and in a few moments 
the Doctor came by, saw the broom and 
walked in. 

"'How did this broom come here.?' she 
asked. 

"'It is mine,' I answered. 'I brought it 
from the kitchen.' 

" 'You shan't have it,' said she, picking it 
up. 'It belongs to the prison.' 

"'Doctor,' I replied, 'it is mine. I bought 
it with my own money. I tell you frankly 
if you take it away, I will bring it back as 
soon as I can.' 

"She put the broom down, walked across 
the floor and slapped my face with all her 
strength. The instant she struck me my 
fears vanished. A bar of iron that we used 
as a poker lay on the hearth near me, and 
I picked it up. 

"'Doctor,' I said, 'if you touch me again 
it will be the last move you'll ever make.' 

"I was still weak from my illness, but at 
that moment passion gave me strength, and 



74 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

had she struck me again nothing could have 
saved her, for I would have killed her as 
surely as I held that bar in my hand. She 
saw I meant what I said and, beginning to 
cry, ran downstairs. In a few minutes she 
returned with a guard and had me put in the 
dungeon — a room under ground, cold, damp 
and dark. It was bitter cold ; the snow was 
knee deep outside, but I was kept for five 
hours in that dismal place. 

"Lieutenant Shane, a big, kind, good- 
natured man, was nominally in charge of the 
prison, but for the sake of peace he let this 
woman take his place. He did not know who 
was in the dungeon until he came to release 
me, for the Doctor had simply told him that 
one of the prisoners had struck her, and on 
that statement he had sent the guard. He 
was very indignant, and said he knew the 
Doctor was to blame, as I always obeyed or- 
ders, and he let me out with many apologies. 

"The lieutenant disliked her exceedingly, 
but her vanity led her to think that he ad- 
mired her until, upon one occasion, she had 
a slapping and scratching bout with him, 
when he explained his sentiments to her most 
explicitly. It happened in this wise : 

"A can of milk was daily brought to the 
prison for the use of the sick, and this milk 
the Doctor sold for her own benefit. Lieu- 
tenant Shane caught her one day in the act 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 75 

of walking off with the can and took it from 
her. She became furious, knocked his pipe 
from his mouth, slapped him as she had 
slapped me, and scratched his face till it 
bled. He was a big, strong, six-footer and 
could have settled her easily enough, but he 
only pushed her away, telling her, however, 
that he would shoot her if she did not behave 
decently. Convinced now that he did not 
admire her, and hating him bitterly, she took 
the first opportunity of showing it. 

"The laundress was very ill, and the Doc- 
tor failed to see that she was properly cared 
for, so the lieutenant took it upon himself, 
in the kindness of his heart, to look after the 
sick woman and asked some of us to sit up 
with her. Several of us assented and went 
with him to see how the woman was, but 
hardly had we entered the room when in flew 
the Doctor and peremptorily ordered him 
out. He told her he did not intend to go, 
for since she neglected her business he must 
attend to it. He was leaning against a door 
which opened from the hospital room into his 
office. The door was unlatched. She ran 
at him, slapping him again and again, and 
pushing him into the office slammed the 
door. 

*'He did not resist her at all, but in an in- 
stant he jerked open the door and stood in 
it, with a pistol in his hand, levelled to fire 



76 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

at her. One of the prisoners caught his arm 
and others begged him not to shoot. For 
my part I said nothing. I thought their in- 
terference ill-timed. He told her that the 
prisoners had saved her life, but that if she 
ever attacked him again, he would kill her, 
be the consequences what they might. This 
cowed her thoroughly and she never troubled 
him again. 

"I was told that this woman had children, 
but I can't believe it, for no mother could 
have done what I saw her do to a little two- 
year old baby — a child of one of the prison- 
ers. The baby sat at the head of the stairs 
with a piece of bread in its Uttle hand when 
the Doctor came storming along. *Get out 
of my way, you little brat ! ' she cried, and 
kicked the little thing down the stairs. 

*'Until she came we had detailed soldiers 
as cooks. These she had replaced by women 
who were entirely incompetent and of such 
uncleanly habits that it was impossible for us 
to eat the food they prepared. 

*'Mrs. Moon had her release papers made 
out, and as she was to leave in a day or two 
felt at liberty to do as she liked, and, accord- 
ingly, she went to the kitchen and turned 
the cooks out. The Doctor found it out, put 
the cooks back and told Mrs. Moon to mind 
her own business; but Mrs. Moon coolly 
sent the cooks away again, and two of us 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



77 



prepared breakfast. The Doctor let the 
matter rest until the meal was on the table, 
then she locked all the doors and stood jeer- 
ing at the fifty hungry women and children. 
But this time she met her match, for Mrs. 
Moon went to the woodyard, and returning 
with an axe deliberately broke the door open 
and ordered us in to breakfast. 

''The Doctor ran at Mrs. Moon but she, 
with a flourish of her weapon, told her if she 
was wise she would let well enough alone. 
Away she went to the lieutenant, but he only 
laughed at her, and said Mrs. Moon was free, 
no longer under his control, and he did not 
care what she did. 

"We ate our breakfast in peace and were 
allowed to do our own cooking afterwards. 

"Some kind ladies in Louisville promised us 
a Christmas dinner, and every day we talked 
of it over our scanty meals. At last the 
long wished-for day arrived, but we did by 
no means spend it as we had hoped, for the 
Doctor furnished each room with a loaf of 
bread and a pitcher of water and locked up 
the inmates for the day. She received the 
dinner and she alone knew what became 
of it. 

"During Christmas morning some Confed- 
erate prisoners were marched past our win- 
dow and Julia and I and others waived our 
handkerchiefs to them. The Doctor saw us, 



78 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

consequently we spent the rest of that Christ- 
mas in the dungeon. 

**She wished constantly to dose us, but we 
had no confidence in her and refused to sub- 
mit to her experiments. There was in the 
prison an old lady whose daughter was very 
ill. The Doctor insisted on prescribing for 
her, but the mother steadily declined the 
prescription and tried to persuade the Doctor 
to leave the room as her presence agitated 
the sick girl. This infuriated her and she 
flew at the mother and vigorously plied her 
hands on the old lady's face. After a strug- 
gle she was ejected and the door locked. 

"Once when the Doctor had gone to New 
York the Colonel came to inspect the prison, 
and we complained to him of her cruelty. 
He told us to draw up a statement of our 
grievances, saying, if all signed it, he would try 
to have her removed. 

**We did as advised, and, would you believe 
it ? he not only did not try for her removal, 
but showed her the paper. She was like an 
insane person after that, and was worse than 
ever. Once she locked us up in our rooms 
and then set fire to a building so near the 
prison that it was enveloped in smoke and 
sparks. We were so sure the prison would 
catch fire that we implored to be allowed to 
go into the yard. The lieutenant wanted 
to let us out but she hid the keys. He 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 79 

kindly went round to each room, however, 
and told us not to be frightened, for if the 
prison caught fire he would break open the 
doors. Fortunately the wind changed and 
the smoke and sparks were blown the other 
way. 

*'As the winter advanced Julia's cough be- 
came so bad we thought she had consump- 
tion, and the ladies of Louisville who visited 
us advised her to take the oath so that she 
might leave the prison. By taking the oath 
she would be compelled to go north of the 
Ohio. We had great difficulty in persuading 
her, but at last she consented and went away. 
I heard from her constantly. She could not 
stand the severe climate and made up her 
mind to disguise herself and go south through 
Louisville. 

**For a long time I heard nothing from her, 
but at length I received a letter from a physi- 
cian in Tennessee, telling us of her death. 
She had passed safely through Kentucky, 
but in Tennessee she was shot and left for 
dead in the road. This gentleman found her 
where she lay, wounded and dying, and he 
carried her to his own house, where she lived 
long enough to write a farewell letter. 

*'In April came the news of Lee's surren- 
der, and on the 2ist of that month the fol- 
lowing order was issued : 



8o IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

*' 'Headquarters Military Commander, 
Provost Marshal's Office. 

Louisville, Ky., April 21, 1865. 
** '■S fecial Order, \ 
No. 48. / 

[extract. ] 



"'II. The following named female prisoners, now 
confined in the Female Military Prison, are uncondi- 
tionally released from arrest and allowed to return to 
their homes.' 

[Here followed a list of the prisoners.] 

*' 'By command of 

'"Brevet Brig. -Gen. L. D. Watkins, 

Military Commander. 
" 'Lieut. George Shane, Superintendent.' 

"I was one of the last to be released and 
was put out of the prison without money, 
food or transportation, and I went to the 
office and asked for transportation for the 
party. It was given us to Chattanooga, but 
still we had no money ; so I applied to the 
Masons — you know my husband was a Mason 
— and they gave me funds. With it I paid 
our expenses from Chattanooga to Dalton, 
which was as far as the trains then ran. 
Then I walked the remaining fifty miles 
home. My father got a wagon and went 
back for my trunk, but he found it empty. 
This was a sore trial, for in prison I worked 
as hard as I could to earn a little money to 
buy materials for my children's clothing. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 8 1 

I made their simple little dresses with so 
much pride, and it was a blow when I found 
that I had been working for thieves. 

*'The only photograph I had of my husband 
was taken with the other things. General 
Judah sent a guard to look for the things, 
but they were not found. So home I went, 
empty-handed, after ten weary months of 
imprisonment. We were never tried nor were 
we ever told the cause of our arrest'' 



CHAPTER IX. 

SUCH was the story as told by Rose Mc- 
Donald, and our fate might have been 
similar had not Colonel Dean been a 
just as well as a merciful man. 

About this time General Steadman issued 
an order that all Rebel women should be sent 
to a distance of not less than three miles 
from the railroad. I asked the officer who 
told us of it, if he knew the reason of the 
order, and he said that some women near 
Calhoun had removed a rail from the track 
and had thus destroyed a train of cars. 

**But," I asked, '^were the women seen re- 
moving the rail V' 

*'No," he replied, "they were not, but their 
cabin was not ten steps from the spot. If 
they were not guilty they must know who is. 



82 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

and they refuse to tell. You will have to 
leave. There is no doubt about it." 

''Are you sent to order us away .?" I asked. 

"No ; but I would advise you to go," he 
answered. 

"But we have no place to go to," I said. 

"You will have to find one," replied he 
coolly. 

It was determined in family conclave that 
we should remain until forced away. Nearly 
every day some of the Yankees would refer 
to this order and advise us to go. But our 
determination was adhered to in spite of all 
they said. 

A month after Steadman's order was first 
issued, an officer brought us a written copy 
of it from Colonel Dean, and said that we 
must leave home within two days. "General 
Steadman," he said, "had been in the village 
the preceding day, and on finding that we 
were still at home, told Colonel Dean to 
enforce the order or he would turn him out 
and put some one in his place that would." 
The officer also advised us to see Colonel 
Dean ourselves, saying he was sure the 
Colonel would furnish us teams to remove 
our furniture to whatever place we might 
desire, provided it was within a reasonable 
distance. 

When Mr. Burton first heard it was probable 
we would be compelled to leave our home, he 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 83 

kindly offered us a refuge which we gratefully- 
accepted. 

Janet and I went to the village to ask for 
wagons and a guard during our removal. 
Colonel Dean granted the request and I am 
sure he was really sorry to be compelled to 
enforce Steadman's hard order. I have never 
heard of any other family upon which it was 
executed. 

The morning brought the teams and guard. 
All that day and the next we were busy 
moving, the guard considering it a great frolic, 
making merry over the quantity of "family 
Bibles" as they called some large, old books of 
my father's. The library consisted of several 
thousand volumes, and we could not keep the 
teams to take them all to Mr. Burton's place, 
so a quantity of the books, together with a 
small stove, were locked up in one of the 
rooms. The Miller's family were to occupy 
the rest of the house. 

Mr. Miller professed to be a Union man 
but his daughter was a most cantankerous 
little Rebel. A few days after leaving home 
we went back to see if the books had been 
disturbed and found Jane Miller in a fury. 

"You hadn't more'n got out o* sight," said 
she, "when here came Dr. Wright in a buggy 
awantin the key o* the room the books is in. 
I wouldn't give it to him, an' he said he'd 
break the door down if I didn't give it up, so 



84 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

mammy, she got skyured an' tuck hit fum 
me an' give hit to him. He tuk jist as many 
books as he could cram into the buggy an' 
I know the load must 'er broke the springs. 
He sot the stove outside an* sent for hit 
arterwards." 

Dr. Wright was Post Surgeon at the village. 
Further depredations were prevented by the 
conveyance of the books to Mr. Burton's 
house. 

Shortly after going to our kind friend's 
home, we heard indirectly that my father 
was wounded. It was only a rumor, but it 
served to make us so unhappy that Janet and 
I determined to go through the Hues and find 
out the truth. It was soon settled that we, 
with Johnny Smith, were to set out as soon 
as our preparations were over. They were 
simple enough ; two knapsacks were made of 
a pair of buggy cushions, and packed with 
our very limited wardrobe. 

Each of us had a blanket rolled up and 
strapped to our knapsack, and Biddy presented 
us each with a haversack filled with provisions 
and a bottle of wine ; then we were ready. 
Colonel Dean promised us passes and an am- 
bulance to take us to the Etowah, which was 
the line. 

At nine o'clock on the morning of the loth 
of August, 1864, we entered the ambulance 
and left Mr. Burton's house, Sophy and 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 85 

Biddy each throwing old shoes after us for 
good luck. We were taken to Colonel Dean's 
office to receive our passes and to have our 
luggage examined. When he saw the poor 
little knapsacks, he said they "could not con- 
tain much that was contraband, and he would 
take our word that an examination was un- 
necessary." He also said all he could to 
dissuade us from going. 

"What will you do," said he, *'when you 
cross the Etowah.-* Your army is in Atlanta, 
sixty miles away, and the country between is 
full of scouting parties from both armies. 
Think better of it, and return to Mr. 
Burton's." 

"That is impossible," we replied ; "we are 
determined to go." 

"Have you friends on the other side of the 
river.?" he asked. 

'*No," I replied. "Neither of us have ever 
crossed the river before, but the people over 
there are Confederates, and that is a sufficient 
guarantee that we shall not suffer." 

"I see," said he, "that you are indeed 
determined to go, but I would advise you to 
make as large a circuit as possible so as to 
avoid the parties I spoke of." He then gave 
us the passes, and we climbed into the ambu- 
lance and set off for the river. How well I 
remember that ambulance ! The floor was 
stained with blood, and on one side was the 



86 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

perfect impression of a hand in blood, not yet 
darkened. There were red finger marks 
everywhere. A grewsome vehicle truly. 

The roadway of the bridge being torn up, 
we got down, shouldered our knapsacks and 
walked across on the shaky planks left for the 
pickets' use, whose post was just beyond the 
bridge. Our passes were examined, pro- 
nounced all right, and we walked on, leaving 
the Yankee Hne behind us. 

For a mile the road lay in sight of the pick- 
ets, so we trudged quietly though joyfully 
along; until the shelter of the woods was 
reached. Here we dropped our burdens, and 
together executed a dance of triumph, which 
must have astonished Johnny Smith, he being 
of a phlegmatic disposition and inclined to do 
things decently and in order. 

When our raptures had somewhat subsided 
we ate our dinner, and resumed our journey, 
though we did not know where we were go- 
ing. Our plan was to follow the road until 
we found a house, then we expected to obtain 
all necessary directions as to our route. In 
case we did not find a house that day we had 
our blankets, provisions enough for two days 
and matches to start a fire. Our artillery 
consisted of Janet's seven-shooter, but we 
hoped to have no use for it. A half-mile 
further on we came to a deserted log cabin, 
and here we tried to get some water, but the 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



87 



well-rope was gone, so we trudged on until 
several empty houses were passed, but not a 
living thing was to be seen, — neither bird, 
beast, nor man. 

The sun was near setting but we decided 
to continue our route till dark, and if we did 
not then find an inhabited house to sleep in 
the woods rather than in one of those uncanny- 
looking cabins. Suddenly the silence was 
broken by a once familiar sound, and we 
stopped instantly. 

*'That's a rooster ; hit's a crowin','' said 
Johnny. 

We left the road and scrambled through the 
bushes in the direction of the friendly voice, 
and in a few minutes, guided by the rooster, 
who continued to crow, we came to a farm 
house. Here we were most kindly welcomed, 
and in answer to our inquiries they pointed 
to hoof-marks near the steps, and said a 
scout had ridden away not five minutes since, 
and if we were not too tired advised us to go 
to the next house only a half-mile away, for 
the scouts were there sometimes even at night, 
and would certainly be there in the morning. 

One of the young ladies of the house went 
with us as a guide. In the morning many of 
the neighbors — all women — came to hear the 
news from the other side of the line. Presently 
a scout rode up, and proved to be Mr. McDon- 
ald, Rose's brother. He asked many ques- 



88 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

tions about the imprisonment of his sisters, 
and we were regretting that we could not tell 
him about his wife, as we had not met her, 
when he suddenly sprang from his chair and 
ran to the gate ; where we saw him assist a 
pretty young girl from the saddle. "That is 
his wife," said some one. 

The horse Mrs. McDonald had ridden was 
borrowed from a Yankee. She wished to re- 
turn it, feeling in honor bound to do it, but 
her husband would not permit it, **for," he 
said, "they had captured two fine horses from 
him quite recently, and he intended to keep 
this one" — and he did. It was a poor apology 
for a horse, but we thought it should have 
gone back to the owner, as two wrongs do not 
make a right. 



CHAPTER X. 

MR. Mcdonald borrowed two bug- 
gies from the neighbors, and a scout 
lent him a horse for us, so Janet, 
Johnny Smith and I were in one buggy, and 
Mr. and Mrs. McDonald in the other. Mr. 
McDonald decided that it was best for us to 
go to his uncle's place in Haralson County, 
his sister Maggie being there, and he wished 
to take her with his wife to Alabama, where 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 89 

they had relatives ; besides it was necessary 
to make a large circuit as the country was 
full of the scouting parties Colonel Dean had 
mentioned. 

We travelled slowly as our horses were 
overloaded, and we walked up all the steep 
hills. The greatest kindness was shown us 
wherever we stopped for the night, and on 
the fourth day we reached Mr. Kenneth 
McDonald's home. Here it was found that 
two companies of Yankees had been wan- 
dering about the vicinity, but were supposed 
to have left, so we concluded to remain until 
it was quite certain that the coast was clear. 

The next afternoon two of the ladies of 
the family went with me to the Tallapoosa 
River, which was about a quarter of a mile 
distant, for a bath. We swam and paddled 
about in the water to our heart's content. 
To rest we sat on the bank under a high 
bluff, and were surprised to hear the horses 
in the pasture above us whinnering and tear- 
ing about as if pursued. 

One of the girls remarked that Zeke, a 
fine, young horse of her father's, was very 
playful, and must be chasing the others. 
Just then Mrs. Morton, another of Mr. 
Kenneth McDonald's daughter, slipped softly 
through the bushes and told us to *' hurry 
home, for the Yankees were chasing the 
horses in the bluff pasture above us." 



96 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

Never were toilets made with greater speed, 
and homeward we ran as fast as we could 
go. Midway something was heard crashing 
through the bushes, and we hid behind a 
clump of blackberries till we could see what 
caused the noise, and almost instantly a negro 
boy came tearing down the hill, his hat off, 
his eyes rolled up so that only the whites 
were visible, and his arms full of bedclothes 
which streamed and fluttered as he ran. 
With one bound he leaped upon the fence, 
and catching sight of us, shrieked : "Dey got 
Zeke ! Dey got Zeke ! Lord hab mussy on 
usl" 

Mrs. Morton spoke to him but, deaf with 
fright, he disappeared in the woods, lamenting 
Zeke at the top of his lungs. When we 
reached home we found the entire household 
in a great commotion. Mr. McDonald had 
taken his horse and was hiding in the woods 
while Johnny carried off our steed and hid it 
so effectually that there was a deal of trouble 
in finding it again. Every little negro in the 
yard was armed with a cup or spoon to hide. 
Janet was running wildly about with a large 
Dutch oven containing a chicken pie, a little 
girl following her erratic flight with the lid, 
the coals still on it. 

"Oh, what shall I do with the pie ! " cried 
Janet. "I can't put it under the house as 
they'll be sure to find it there." 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINKS. 91 

**Hurry and put it somewhere," panted the 
child. **I can't hold out much longer, the 
lid's so heavy ! " 

The pie at length found a resting place in 
the garden under the broad leaves of some 
tobacco plants. I did not stay to see the 
fate of the lid but, becoming panic-stricken 
like the rest, rushed upstairs to secure my 
little all ; but before I finished cramming my 
possessions into my knapsack, Janet arrived, 
bent upon the same errand, and together we 
tried many hiding places, but finally concluded 
just to leave them in our room and trust to 
luck. 

The night passed quietly and in the morn- 
ing it was found that the noise we made while 
bathing in the water had frightened the 
Yankees away, they in all probability think- 
ing we were Confederate soldiers, though they 
did not leave until they had captured Zeke. 

They had done much damage on the other 
side of the river, and Mrs. Morton proposed 
that we should visit the scene of destruction. 
A shady walk of half a mile brought us to the 
ford opposite our destination, and pulling off 
our shoes and stockings we waded across. 
The dwelling house was undisturbed, but the 
inmates were still suffering from their fright 
and the loss of many articles of value either 
taken or destroyed. 

They told us that a family of Tennesseeans, 



92 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



who were moving to South Georgia, had left 
their property in an outbuilding and the enemy 
had found it. On going to look at the re- 
mains, we found on the floor a mixture of 
twenty bags of flour, three barrels of molas- 
ses, a crate of glass and china pounded up 
and stirred in, and a number of silk dresses 
in shreds. There was a still on the place, 
and as many of the men had got drunk it was 
a matter of surprise that the torch had not 
been used and the place left under the guard 
of "Sherman's Sentinels," as the bare chim- 
neys he left behind him were called. 

By eight o'clock the next morning we were 
on our way again. As long as we were in 
Georgia we fared well, nor were we allowed 
to pay for anything, but as soon as the Ala- 
bama line was crossed it was far different, 
for we were looked upon with suspicion and 
could hardly procure food enough for subsist- 
ence. One day Mr. McDonald's horse broke 
down, so we stopped at a farm house to buy 
forage for the horses and dinner for ourselves. 
The owner said, surlily : "I haint nothin' to 
spar; you might as well go on." The country 
was thickly settled, houses being in sight of 
each other ; so on we went, hoping for better 
luck next time. 

Mr. and Mrs. McDonald had to walk and 
lead the horse, for it could barely pull the 
empty buggy. At eight houses we made our 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 93 

application and as many times was it refused, 
and at the last house the horse had to be taken 
from the buggy for fear it would fall and break 
the shafts ; then we sat hungrily and discon- 
solately regarding each other. 

Johnny climbed into an apple tree, which 
was loaded with beautiful fruit, and filled his 
pockets, but after biting one he threw it down 
with disgust, emptied his pockets and returned 
to the buggy. 

"Johnny, what's the matter with the apple.?" 
asked Janet. 

"They're the nastiest things you ever 
tasted," he replied. *'Sour as vinegar and 
bitter as gall." 

A little negro, as black as soot, seated him- 
self on the fence near us. In one hand he 
held a tin pint cup, in the other a piece of 
corn bread, and as he raised his head from a 
prolonged sip at the former, a white mustache 
became visible — evidence unmistakable of 
buttermilk. 

**I asked the man at the house to let us 
have at least some buttermilk and corn bread," 
said Mr. McDonald, "and he swore 'there 
wasn't a drop of milk nor a grain of corn on 
the place. Said the Yankees had killed the 
cows and taken the corn.' Now just see 
what that little rascal's eating." 

A table was now spread on the piazza and 
the family sat down to dinner, while we looked 



94 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

on. When they had finished, a pleasant-faced 
woman walked down to us and said, with some 
embarrassment : "If you will be content with 
bacon and greens and corn bread for your- 
selves and fodder for the horses, the old man 
says I may let you have *em." Then she 
made apologies for the "old man" who had 
been '*aggervated powerful" by the Yankees. 
We accepted the apologies and the dinner, 
paying well for both, I suppose, since the 
dinner certainly was not worth the sum de- 
manded. 

We were fortunate enough to spend the 
next night at the house of a Georgian from 
our own county, and dined the following day 
at the house of an Alabamian, whose daugh- 
ter was the loveliest girl I ever saw. She had 
a pure Greek face, broad, low forehead, shaded 
by short, silky, black curls that lay in rings 
over her head like a baby's ; eyes large and 
dark, complexion clear but pale, and lips 
scarlet. She seemed quite unconscious of 
her unusual beauty. 

In LaFayette we were delighted to meet 
with some friends, whose warm-hearted hos- 
pitality quite made us forget the inhospitality 
of some of the people we had met. Here our 
party separated, Mr. and Mrs. McDonald, 
with Maggie, going on, while we remained a 
day with our friends. They gave us letters 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 95 

to General Hardee, and through him we hoped 
to find my father. 

We went by stage to Cusseta, the nearest 
railway station, where we sat up all night, ex- 
pecting the train at every moment. At five 
in the morning it arrived, and carried us as 
far as West Point and then stopped, because 
there was a report that the road had been cut 
beyond. After a day's delay, however, we 
got as far as Newnan, where we found that 
the road was in possession of the enemy, and 
were obliged to return to West Point. 

General Tyler, then in command at that 
point, advised us to give up all hope of reach- 
ing the army, saying that in Savannah we 
would probably be able to obtain information 
as to my father's whereabouts ; so we gave 
up our plan and set out for Savannah. Hear- 
ing at Opelika that the Provost Marshal was no 
other than Captain Belton,the son-in-law of Mr. 
Burton, we asked the conductor of the train 
to tell him that two ladies wished to see him. 

Through the window we soon saw him 
approaching, leading Mrs. Belton's little 
nephew. Janet was an especial favorite of 
the little fellow, and when he saw her, he 
cried in his shrill little voice : **Kiss me, Miss 
Janet! kiss me. Miss Janet!" as Captain 
Belton held him up to the window, and his 
salute to Janet was so fervent, all the soldiers 
roared with laughter. 



96 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

From Opelika we had a wearisome time, 
travelling nearly all the way in crowded box- 
cars, but early in the morning we reached 
Savannah, and driving to my married sister's 
house were terribly disappointed to find that 
the family were in the country, so we drove 
to my aunt's and there learned that my 
father's wound was healed, but that he was 
still quite weak. He was staying with Nelly 
and Mr. Annandale at Montgomery, a summer 
place on the Vernon River, where Captain 
Belton telegraphed that we were to be 
expected on a certain day. 

My aunt sent us out in her carriage, and 
you may imagine our delight at the happy ter- 
mination of our fifteen days' journey. 



CHAPTER XL 

MY father's health improved rapidly, my 
brother was on furlough and Mr. An- 
nandale was engaged in attending to 
signal corps affairs in the immediate vicinity, 
so that we were all together, and the time 
passed pleasantly enough. 

As Montgomery is twelve miles from Sa- 
vannah we did not often go to the city, be- 
sides it was not thought prudent to go back 
and forth at that season of the year; but this 



IX AND OUT OF THE LINES. 97 

did not matter to us, as we amused ourselves 
bathing and fishing. 

Mr. Annandale bought a queer, little, flat- 
bottomed boat, nearly as broad as it was 
long, and in this we used to go crabbing in 
''Breakfast Creek," which was in the marsh 
just across the river opposite the house. 
Nelly never would go with us ; she was afraid 
of the porpoises, who constantly appeared 
down at the point below the torpedoes in 
long strings, solemnly turning somersaults, 
and then coming up to blow. Some one had 
told her that a porpoise had once upset a 
boat in Breakfast Creek, and she could never 
be persuaded to venture there. 

Janet did not care for fishing much, but 
Lou and I were on the water nearly all the 
time. Once we caught a pincushion-fish, — 
the ugliest-looking thing, ^vith green eyes and 
teeth like a squirrel's. This fish, when angr}% 
swells itself up into a curious semblance of a 
pincushion. I stuck a pin in it, but the fish 
was not the least bit discomposed. 

One day Mr. Annandale went with us, and 
besides ourselves there were in the boat 
Balaam, a man serv^ant, and a large fish-car, 
and although we were heavily loaded we 
thought we could throw the car overboard if 
it should be necessary to lighten the boat. I 
was steering, and we had crossed the river 
and were rounding the point by Breakfast 



98 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

Creek, when the wind freshened and the 
water became quite rough. Mr. Annandale 
looked anxious and suggested that we go home 
at once ; it was more easily said than done, 
as I had only an oar to steer with and once 
it was nearly jerked out of my hand, when 
Balaam exclaimed: "Tek 'em slantin', for 
Gawd sake, Miss Flawance!" 

"Take care! take care!" cried Mr. Annan- 
dale. "These fiat-bottomed concerns have 
sometimes an unpleasant trick of going down 
headforemost." 

"Then what will become of me?" said Lou, 
plaintively. *'You can all swim, but I — !" 
a big breaker struck us and she was silent 
holding tight to the seat. 

Mr. Annandale and Balaam continued to 
shout at me, one to steer this way, the other, 
that way. We pitched about in a very alarm- 
ing manner, and I believed at one time we 
were really going under, and very odd thoughts 
ran in my head. Mr. Annandale was silent, 
while Balaam said, between his set teeth : 
"Mighty bad plan for try an' sabe drownin* 
people. Miss Lou; bes' ting for do is, shub 
'em off." 

Poor Lou uttered not a word, and I had 
too much to do in taking care of my oar to 
have time to comfort her. Fortunately we 
soon got in to still water and landed safely, 
then walked home, Lou reproaching us on the 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 99 

way for our inhumanity in not offering to 
save her. 

One night not long after our narrow escape 
Lou and I went with Balaam to see him cast 
for shrimp. Lou was steering, my seat being 
in the bow, and every time the boat stopped 
Lou would run the bow into the marsh-grass, 
which crackled and emitted phosphoric light 
in a very scary way. She thought it was 
beautiful, but then she was in the stern. I 
was much too near that tall, ill-smelling grass 
to perceive the beauty ; besides I believed that 

" Slimy things did crawl with legs 



Upon the slimy sea." 

I am mortally afraid of things "with legs." 
Lou laughed immoderately and said it was a 
just punishment for her treatment on the 
fishing expedition. Apart from the thought 
of "slimy things" the scene was most beau- 
tiful ; the water, as the boat glided through 

it — 

" Like a witch's oils, 

Burnt blue, and green and white." 

Every frightened fish that darted past left a 
track of silvery white light shining in its wake. 
Once Balaam brought up something in his 
net that flapped and snapped at a great rate, 
though it was too dark to see what the 
creature was until the landing was reached ; 



. ...f I 



lOO IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

then it was found to be a *'gar," which Nelly 
was prevailed upon to have for dinner next 
day. When it came on the table it looked so 
nice every one except Janet ate some ; but 
dear me, I think that wretched fish was pos- 
sessed, for it made us all very unhappy, nor 
was its ghost laid until the skin, which 
Balaam was drying on a tree in the yard, was 
honorably buried. Not one of us ever forgot 
that gar, and even at this late day Mr. 
Annandale is touched with the keenest emo- 
tion when that little episode is recalled. 

In the afternoon we went to White Bluff, 
a summer place a few miles from Montgom- 
ery, to see the Water Witch, a gunboat cap- 
tured from the enemy a short time previous 
to our arrival. The prize had been dearly 
bought with the life of Lieutenant Pelot, the 
gallant planner and commander of the ex- 
pedition. The vessel had been surrounded 
with netting which the Confederates had to 
cut away, and this gave the alarm. A few 
Yankees ran on deck, but were overpowered 
and the hatches fastened down on those be- 
low. The boat was brought off in safety but 
our navy lost one of its bravest officers. 

We liked Montgomery so much that my 
father proposed to rent a house and there 
make a home for us till the war was over. 
We heard that my mother and sisters were 
among the Atlanta exiles, and my father wrote 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. lOI 

to friends in the army to find them out and 
direct them to us, as he was too weak to go 
in search of them himself. One of the exiles 
joined her husband at Beaulieu Battery near 
us, and when we went to see her, the account 
she gave of their sufferings was perfectly 
sickening. We were thankful when she as- 
sured us that among the exiles there were no 
persons answering to the description of my 
mother and sisters. 

On the 3d of October a letter was received 
from Mr. McDonald, written on the eve of 
his departure for the Etowah. He promised 
to make every endeavor to reach Mr. Burton's 
home and see our people there. 

My father and brother had returned to 
their commands, and on the 12th of October 
two letters were received from the former, 
both dated near Marietta, were he was with 
Hood's army. On the 30th of October an- 
other letter was received, stating that he 
would soon be with us as he was worn out, 
having gone back too soon, and was ordered 
to the rear. 

My father was called *'The Old Captain," 
as he was very much the oldest man in the 
regiment, being fifty-two years of age, and he 
had been a student all his life, yet it was won- 
derful how often he out-marched much younger 
and apparently stronger men. His regiment, 
the 63d Georgia, was in Smith's brigade, 



I02 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

Cleburne's division. General Smith was very 
kind to him, lending him his ambulance often, 
and showing kindness in many other ways. 

In Savannah, General Hardee ordered my 
father to raise a battalion for city defence. 
He was to enroll all men capable of bearing 
arms, irrespective of nationality, and all fur- 
loughed soldiers, or soldiers who were passing 
through the city. The veterans did not mind 
it much, and in fact enjoyed the fun of hunt- 
ing up the skulkers. One man was found in 
a bag in the garret, another hid under his 
counter, and a third in a rice tierce. 

The battalion was ordered to Mentieth, 
which is about seventeen miles from Savan- 
nah, where it remained a few days and was 
barely saved from capture by a rapid retreat, 
afterwards being sent to Whitmarsh Island, 
six miles from the city, to the old camp of 
the Georgia regulars. 

Ten thousand sick Confederates from 
Northern prisons were expected in Savannah 
in exchange for as •many Yankees from 
Andersonville, and Janet went to the city to 
do her share in helping to care for them. 
They were in a horrible condition, not one of 
them but what were alive with vermin, and 
these loathsome insects had actually burrowed 
into their flesh, and the filthy rags they had 
on were dropping from them. They were 
fearfully emaciated. 



f 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 03 

Two of these men were sent to us to be 
cared for. They had been bathed in a decoc- 
tion of some plant — cocculas indicus, I think — 
and their heads had been almost shaved to 
free them from their tormentors, so they came 
to us clean and decently dressed. One was 
quite young and needed only wholesome food 
to become strong again, but the other \s*as 
broken do'^Ti, feeble and old, and constantly 
pined for bacon and greens, which he got from 
the servants, and would eat in spite of the 
surgeon's orders to the contrary. He de- 
spised our oysters which we thought so fine, 
and said that "those of the James River were 
so big you had to make two bites of 'em an' 
chaw 'em at that." He also said that he 
knew he did not have long to live, and he 
wished he could be allowed to choose the way 
in which the remainder of his days was to be 
spent. 

"And if you could choose, how would you 
spend them.'" was asked. 

"Jist this away," said he, his eyes shining 
at the thought. ''I'd have the whole hateful 
Yankee nation tied so tight they couldn't 
move, an' I'd jist chop off heads studdy. 
Nor I wouldn't stop nuther, only jist onct a 
day, to draw breath and eat dinner." 

Mr. Annandale, Nellie and Janet went to 
town leaving Lou and myself at J^Iontgomery, 
but we were to join them as soon as it was 



I04 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

known that the city was to be evacuated. 
On the 6th of December Mr. Annandale sent 
for us, and it was arranged that Lou and I 
were to go to his place in Northeast Georgia, 
and that Janet should remain with Nellie ; so 
at half-past five on the morning of the loth of 
December, 1 864, we went to the depot but had 
to wait until 1 1 o'clock before the train left. 

We were delayed two days on the way 
from Savannah to Charleston, for the enemy 
had cut the road and the train had to wait 
for repairs. We bought some sweet potatoes 
at a cabin near by, made a fire and roasted 
them ; and here for the first time, I saw peo- 
ple living in a cabin with an earthen floor. 
The woman from whom the potatoes were 
bought was a most peculiar looking person ; 
her face was bloated, the skin was chalky 
white, and the lips livid. Some of the sol- 
diers who were camped near by said they 
were dirt eaters. 

One of the bridges that we had to cross 
was being shelled, and our train being an am- 
munition train, the conductor, fearing an ex- 
plosion, hesitated about taking us, but when 
asked, every woman said she was ''willing to 
take the chance," and we got across safely. 
The second night was spent in Charleston; 
the third in Augusta, from which place we 
telegraph to my aunt in Athens that she 
must expect us in the evening. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 105 

At the station her carriage awaited us, the 
driver asking us respectfully if we were **kin 
o' the young lady dat rid all de way frum 
Atlanta by herse'f ?" 

"What is her name?" we asked. 

"Miss Sophy," said he, but he did not seem 
to know her other name. 

We wondered if it could be our Sophy, and 
when the carriage stopped were disappointed 
that she was not there to meet us. On en- 
tering the parlor, however, some one sprang 
from behind the door and proved to be her. 
She had ridden not from Atlanta, but from 
Mr. Burton's, a distance of a hundred and 
fifty miles. 

It seemed that as soon as Mr. Smith heard 
that the enemy had left our place he had 
ridden Gipsy back to see what had become of 
his family, and Sophy took the pony and 
rode to Athens, Mr. Smith accompanying her 
on foot. She came to see if it were possible 
to reach Savannah and to find out what was 
to be done for our future. We three con- 
sulted together, and concluded that it would be 
best for Sophy to go with Lou to Mr. Annan- 
dale's farm and that I should go home, taking 
with me Mr. Smith and our three ponies. 

For two or three days I had been far from 
well, but fearing that my trip would be de- 
layed, refrained from speaking of my indispo- 
sition, and started one morning with my head 



Io6 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

burning with fever. Without once leaving 
the saddle on the first day, we made thirty- 
five miles over a road which was, as Mr. 
Smith expressed it, "half-leg deep in a slush 
o' ice an' mud." 

I passed a wretched night and in the morn- 
ing was too ill to sit on my horse, so Mr. 
Smith procured for me a buggy and a mule, 
with a little boy as driver, but the mule had 
never worked in single harness before and in- 
sisted on travelling on the side of the road, 
the end being that the buggy was upset and 
we were landed in a mud puddle. No harm 
being done to either of us, the vehicle was 
righted and we went on. 

At the ferry over the Chattahoochee some 
men were quarrelling, and we had to wait for 
the settlement of their dif^culty before we 
could cross. A short distance beyond we 
came to a comfortable looking two story farm 
house, and as I was now too ill to sit up, Mr. 
Smith begged permission for us to remain 
there until I was well enough to travel. 

I can never forget those kind people, for if 
I had been a member of their own family they 
could not have cared for me with more tender 
consideration than they did. The old gentle- 
man, who was a stanch Presbyterian, even 
endeavored to make me understand the mys- 
teries of predestination, but my stupidity was 
such that his well-meant efforts came to 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



107 



naught. I remained with these good Samar- 
itans for several days and then left, although 
they thought I was not fit to travel. 

The weather turned bitter cold, the ground 
was frozen as hard as a rock, and the keenest 
wind I ever felt sent the sleet with stinging 
force against my face, a thin silk veil proving 
but small protection. My fingers were too 
numb to hold the reins, so I laid them on the 
pony's neck and folded my arms, hoping thus 
to keep my hands from being frost-bitten. 
My stirrup was wrapped with carpet but the 
foot in it soon lost all sensation. The roads were 
so bad we made only twenty-five miles that 
day, and on stopping for the night I was so 
worn out with fatigue and cold that in attempt- 
ing to dismount I fell perfectly helpless to 
the ground. Again I was fortunate enough 
to meet with the greatest kindness, and was 
so well cared for that in the morning I was 
sufficiently recovered to resume my journey. 

At the bridge over the river we found a 
whole train of wagons waiting to cross, the 
floor of the bridge being gone, and in its 
place only a narrow path of loose planks, dan- 
gerous for a man to walk over, and trebly so 
for a horse. Such as it was, however, it was 
the only means of crossing ; so I determined 
to go over it myself before trusting the 
ponies on it. 

In the middle I found a poor mule that 



Io8 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

had come to grief; its hind legs and body up 
to the fore legs having slipped between the 
diamond-shaped framework of the bridge, and 
it was only kept from falling into the river 
below by the wedging of its fore legs among 
the timbers. In its struggles it had torn 
nearly all the skin off its withers and was a 
most pitiable object. Thirty feet below on 
the river's edge lay a fine black horse, hav- 
ing broken its neck by falling in a frantic 
attempt to leap from beam to beam. I had 
the planks fastened as securely as possible 
and, after one or two narrow escapes, the 
ponies got over safely. 

On the afternoon of the 24th of December 
we ascended a hill and looked down upon the 
spot where Cassville had once stood. Of 
the town nothing remained but the naked 
chimneys, grim sentinels over the ruins of 
these desolated Southern homes. 



CHAPTER XII. 

ABOUT sunset we came in sight of home 
and Gipsy gave an eager whinner of 
recognition, springing forward so that I 
was obliged to turn her resisting head, for 
my destination was Mr. Burton's house, five 
miles away, and just as the chilly twilight was 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 09 

deepening into night we cantered up to the 
gate. My journey of over a thousand miles 
was safely ended at last, and I had the happi- 
ness of giving my mother and Maria a pleas- 
ant surprise by walking unexpectedly into 
their room that Christmas eve. 

It was a cold night and as soon as I had 
removed my wrappings we gathered around 
the fire, and I put my feet on the fender, 
my mother and Maria did likewise. Absurd 
looking things they were, to be sure. My 
mother's shoes, full of holes, were covered by 
cloth patches, and Maria had on what were 
called ''the family shoes." These were yellow 
brogans bought, before the Yankees came, for 
a servant boy, but he had never worn them ; 
so whenever we were obliged to go into the 
mud the one v/ith the "holiest" shoes put 
them on. Maria had been in the stable-yard 
and was so excited at seeing me that she for- 
got to take them off. 

We talked far into the night about the past 
and looked hopefully to the future, for even 
then we did not doubt our ultimate success. 
The following is Sophy's account of what 
occurred during the time that elapsed after 
our going through the Unes to our meeting 
in Athens, though I did not hear it until the 
summer of 1865. 



110 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

Sophy's story. 

"After you, Janet and Johnny Smith left 
an English Yankee, named Vivian, was sent 
to guard the place. He was, on the whole, 
well behaved and attended to his duty. He 
had a friend named Metz who came often to 
see him, and who had a horse and buggy but 
no harness. Now you remember we had a 
buggy and harness but no horse. So Metz 
proposed a trade, offering us a horse for our 
harness. He had the animal below the ter- 
race at the back of the house." 

"Yes," interrupted my mother, **and I, in 
attempting to go down the steps to look at it, 
fell down the terrace and nearly killed myself. 
The guard picked me up, helped me up the 
steps and was assisting me into the house 
when Mr. Burton rushed out to know what 
was the matter. He was scandalized to see 
me leaning on a Yankee's arm, but I was too 
much bruised to care." 

Sophy laughed as she continued. "We 
were much afraid she was hurt, but an exam- 
ination showed the only harm done was a 
bruise ; then we had to laugh, for that very 
day she had cordially agreed with Biddy when 
she said of the Yankees, that she 'wouldn't 
touch wan iv them with a tin foot pole!' " 

"Did you make the trade with Metz?" 
I asked. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. Ill 

"Oh, no. The horse was lame, and we 
wouldn't have it, so he brought another which 
he said was sound but worn down with over- 
work. We took this one, but in a few days 
it showed 'big head.' Oil of vitriol was rec- 
ommended as a cure, so a ring of grease was 
made around the inflamed spot and the space 
within painted with the vitriol. The applica- 
tion had to be made twice, and though it was 
a cruel, it was a successful remedy. 

"Mrs. Morris, who, together with her chil- 
dren and her sister. Miss Patsey Green, lived 
in one of Mr. Burton's houses, had a nice, fat, 
little mule named Mike, and when meal was 
wanted Nancy Morris and I were sent for it, 
riding double on Mike to the mill ; and when 
the bag was filled and put on his back, I sat 
on top of it, but I did not stay there long for 
Mike took it into his head to roll and shot 
the bag and myself into the road. We made 
him get up, and by dint of much tugging and 
and straining put the bag back. 

"Mr. Burton had an eccentric negro named 
Dick, who, as he expressed it, 'progged a 
heap,' and in one of these progging expedi- 
tions Dick picked up two old, scarecrow 
mules and the fore wheels of a wagon. This 
was a fine equipage. Dick was afraid to go 
anywhere alone, as he thought the Yankees 
would either put him in the army or make 
him wait on them, so to avoid this, when in 



112 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

their presence, he drew pretty heavily on his 
reputation for eccentricity. He would not 
go to the mill without a companion, so on one 
occasion Nancy and I seated ourselves on his 
two-wheeled concern and went with him. It 
was twelve o'clock when we arrived, and 
while the miller was grinding the corn Nancy 
produced a lunch of corn bread and two little 
slices of bacon, which we proceeded to eat. 

* 'Several Yankees stood and stared at us, 
making comments on our luncheon and our- 
selves. I don't know why but until then I 
had not noticed Dick's attire, but as I looked 
at him, a more forlorn object was never seen. 
A fragment of a hat without rim or crown 
was on his head ; his shirt was in ribbons, 
the sleeves torn off above the elbows ; his 
trousers were rags tacked together, leav- 
ing the legs bare from the calf down ; his 
shoes were tightly laced and tied with white 
strings around the ankles, the shoe pegs grin- 
ning like a skeleton's teeth, and the soles 
flapping as he walked. Said I : 

*' 'Dick, why in the world have you made 
such a scarecrow of yourself ? ' 

" 'Nebber mine, Miss Sophy,' he replied in 
a mysterious whisper, at the same time giving 
me a cautionary wink ; 'nebber mine, I got 
better close to home, but I put on dese yere 
ole rags for mak'em tink I poo', den dey wont 
come sarchin' in my house.' 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 113 

**The bags being in their places we started, 
all walking as the mules were too weak to 
pull more than the meal. There was a good 
deal of trouble with one of the wheels ; it 
wobbled about in a most unaccountable man- 
ner and finally came off. 

** *What de debbil de matter wid dis wheel > ' 
cried Dick, giving it a kick and thereby driv- 
ing the loose pegs into his toes, which caused 
him to howl and drop the reins. The wheel 
was in pieces, so a rail was fastened in its 
place, consequently home was not reached 
until after dark. 

*One day Maria and I drove to our own 
home to see our old nurse, for she had been 
allowed to remain although we had been sent 
away. In walking over a loose stone Maria 
slipped and fell, spraining her ankle so badly 
that it was hard work to get her into the 
buggy. She suffered intense pain, and for 
some weeks could not walk. One day as she 
was hopping through the scullery, Dicky 
Crofts, a half-witted fellow, who sometimes 
worked for Mr. Burton, stopped her. He 
always spoke rapidly, but this time it seemed 
to me he spoke like a flash of lightning — 
without pause or stop. Raising his two long, 
skinny, brown hands, and bending towards 
her, he said : 

"*Miss Maria, ef you don't take some sas- 
safrax tea an' 'nint your ankle with hit, you'll 



114 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

do jist like a gal what I knowed, which dumb 
a fence an' fell over hit an' sprained her laig; 
an' some tole her to do one thing an' some 
tole her to do 'nodder, and I tole her to use 
sassafrax tea, and she wouldn't an' she turned 
punkin color an' mortified, den died in the 
rackinest mis'ry.' But Maria's ankle got 
well after a while. 

"Yankee Jennie, as we called the horse we 
bought with the harness, had become so 
tender-footed that it was absolutely necessary 
to have her shod. The blacksmith was an 
old man who lived ten miles away, but we 
determined, in spite of the distance, to take 
her to him. The guard, Vivian, insisted on 
going with us, probably suspecting that we 
were going to see Confederates, though he 
pretended he thought we ought not to ride 
so far alone. We told him he was neither 
wanted nor needed, but he would go, so we 
rode on our way quite oblivious of his pres- 
ence. When we had gone half way the woods 
became very thick, making it a wild bit of 
country. The guard turned pale and, looking 
nervously around, said he found <the trip 
would take too much time as he had to go to 
the village in the afternoon.' 

**At a house on the way, a woman and her 
daughter were heard lamenting the loss of 
their potatoes which the Yankees had just 
grabbled. They [gave us something to eat, 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 115 

then directed us to the blacksmith's shop, 
where we found the old man crushing sugar 
cane. He said he could not possibly shoe 
the horse as he had neither shoes, coal nor 
nails ; but we had brought shoes with us, 
Dick having pulled them off the skeleton of 
a Yankee horse. When these were shown 
and he was told how far we had ridden, he said : 

***Well, well, go scratch in the ashes an* 
see ef you kin fine a leetle coal.* 

* We scratched and found the coal — a small 
handful. ^Enough,' he said, 'but where is 
the iron for nails ? * 

"Pursuing our investigations in the ash 
heap, bits of iron that were suitable were 
found. Nancy and I blew the bellows, the 
old man shod the horse, and then, with many 
thanks, we started homeward, arriving at nine, 
o'clock that night. 

''Mr. Oldman came one day to Mr. Bur- 
ton's and, in the course of conversation, inti- 
mated to me that he had seen Confederates 
lately. I was afraid to ask any questions 
then, as the house was full of Yankees, but I 
determined to go to his place, which was on a 
mountain about five miles distant. We often 
sent letters through Colonel Dean, but they 
were necessarily brief and guarded. Through 
the Confederates we hoped to meet at Mr. 
Oldman's, when we expected to send full ac- 
counts of the state of things within the lines. 



Il6 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

"Taking many letters with us, Nancy Mor- 
ris and I mounted our two horses, mere bags 
o' bones, and creeping steadily along reached 
the place, only to find that the Confederates 
had been there the day before but had left, 
intending to return the following week with 
two more. We were much disappointed at 
having been a day too late and determined 
that it should not happen so again. 

"At the appointed time Nancy and I were 
once more at Mr. Oldman's, and there found 
two Confederates who had come for the pur- 
pose of blowing up engines on the Western 
and Atlantic Railway. They had been too 
long away from our army to know much of 
its movements, but they informed us that in 
two weeks a squad of ten Confederates would 
arrive, bound on the same errand that they 
were, and that we would then have late news 
of the army and, possibly, of our friends. 
A house two miles from Mr. Burton's, belong- 
ing to a widow, had been burned, and this 
spot was appointed as the place of meeting. 
Ten days after, as Mrs. Morris was making 
soap out in a field near Mr. Burton's, a 
mounted Confederate dashed by, uttering as 
he passed her the words, 'To-night — the 
burnt house.' 

"She was very glad to recognize in the sol- 
dier a young man that she knew well, and 
from him she hoped to obtain information as 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 17 

to her husband, who had been carried off des- 
perately wounded on the last train that left 
the village before it was occupied by the 
enemy, and she had heard nothing from him 
since. At nine o'clock that night she came 
for me, and while the guard was safe in front 
of the house, we went softly downstairs. 

It was a still cold night ; the moonhght so 
clear that we feared the guard might go to 
the back of the house and see us before we 
got safely under cover of the shrubbery, but 
he did not. At the burnt house we met ten 
mounted Confederates, and at sight of us 
they sprang from their horses, then advanced, 
shook hands and stood with heads uncovered, 
holding their horses. Mrs. Morris knew all 
but one, a Texan, but they could tell her 
nothing of her husband, though they spoke 
hopefully of our cause. All they said was 
cheerful, and it was happiness just to see 
those gray uniforms once more. 

*'We inquired if we could do anything for 
them, but they were all well provided for but 
one — the Texan — who was destitute, so to 
him we promised a suit of clothes. We were 
to send any letters to Mr. Oldman's, and they 
would forward them, and after talking a half 
hour longer they shook hands, mounted and 
rode away. 

"The next day we set about preparing the 
promised suit of clothes. The carding mill 



Il8 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

was ten miles away and, as our horses were 
the slowest of the slow, we started very early, 
Nancy on a saddle and I on the bag of wool. 
The mill was run by a woman who could not, 
or would not, card the rolls for us that day, 
so the wool had to be left and we were to 
come for it in two days ; so early on the morn- 
ing of the second day Nancy and I set out 
again, and on the way met a man who told 
us that if we kept an eye open we might see 
some Confederates. 

"As we passed a farmhouse a fine, young 
mule, with a new halter on, came trotting up, 
and the farmer told us it was a Yankee mule 
and that no one could catch it. *The Yan- 
kees,' he said, *had tried and failed, and so 
had he.' It took a fancy to my horse and 
followed us. Some distance further on a 
turn in the road brought us in full view of 
a squad of Confederates, with a lieutenant 
in command. 

"'Oh, you are Confederates!' I exclaimed 
eagerly. All removed their caps, and the 
lieutenant replied: 

•**Yes, we belong to Wheeler's command,^ 
adding, as he pointed to his bandaged head, 
*You see, I got a wound last night when we 
blew up the engine.' 

"I asked if he did not want the mule that 
was following us, at the same time telling 
him how many ineffectual efforts had been 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 119 

made to catoh it. He was very glad to get 
the mule and requested us, as it followed my 
horse, to ride with them to a farmer's house 
about a mile further, where there was a horse 
lot, and he would try to catch it. As we 
rode along he said: 

"'Are you not afraid of the Yankees?* 

"*0h, no; we flanked the pickets at the 
station.' 

" 'But you might meet others,' he replied. 

"'It would not matter,' I said. 'I don't 
think they would harm us. Besides, I always 
go well protected.' 

'"Indeed! May I ask in what way?* he 
asked. 

'"I carry a pistol,* was my answer. 

*'*Carry a pistol!' he repeated with an 
amused expression. 'Do you know how to 
use it ?* 

" 'Yes, certainly ; I learned to shoot when 
I was a child,' I answered, laughing. 

"'If you do not object, I would like to see 
your pistol,' said he. 

'*It was the one poor Rose McDonald gave 
me the last time I saw her ; a single barrel, 
muzzle loader, that carried an enormous ball, 
but it was a self-cocker, and I suppose it 
looked to that soldier as if it came out of the 
ark, for he laughed as he said that it could 
not do much harm. 

'*When we reached the lot the men tried 



I20 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

to drive the mule in, but it would not go, so 
I rode ahead and it followed; then the gate 
was closed and the soldiers were chasing it 
round and round the enclosure, when a little 
boy flung open the gate and shouted: 

*''Run! Run! Yankees coming!' 

''The way those men left the mule, mounted 
their horses and darted through that gate 
into the woods, was marvelous to behold. 
The Yankees gave a yell and galloped to the 
empty lot, though they did not attempt to 
follow the Confederates, nor did they speak 
to us, but went promptly to work on the 
poor farmer's potatoes. 

"Two Union women — the only ones I ever 
heard of in our neighborhood — had passed 
while the Confederates were chasing the 
mule, and reported them to a foraging party 
of a hundred Yankees who were at the mill. 
We met these women afterwards at the same 
place, and I said to one of them : 

**'You sent those Yankees after our men.* 

" 'No, we didn't,* one replied, 'but we was 
feared they'd ketch 'em.' 

"'You will be glad to know, then,' I said, 
'that in spite of the treacherous wretch that 
tried to betray them, they have escaped.* 
But she made no reply. 

"We found our wool still uncarded, the 
woman saying she had been too busy. We 
told her that the wool was to make clothes 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. I2I 

for a destitute Confederate, and that we were 
not going until she did card it. Then she 
told us that if we 'would wait we could have 
it in the afternoon,' consequently we unsad- 
dled, fed the horses, rested awhile, and ate 
our lunch. By this time the wool was ready 
and we returned by a different route, and 
had much trouble in making the horses cross 
at the ford, which was badly choked up with 
the decomposing remains of several of their 
brethren. 

**It was late and quite cold, so we stopped 
at a house to warm and the family pressed 
us to remain all night, but knowing how anx- 
iously we were expected, we went on. There 
was no moon and the stars gave, barely light 
enough for us to see the road, so we sang 
to keep our courage up. Once our voices 
stopped with a frightened quaver as a white 
object crossed the road, but a steady glance 
showed that it was only a sheep, and we rode 
on, laughing at our cowardice. Nancy was 
to spend the night at a house a quarter of a 
mile from home, so I rode the rest of the way 
alone, but everything looked so familiar I 
did not mind it. It was eleven o'clock when 
I got down at the gate." 



122 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Sophy's story continued. 

«*O00N after you left, the boys brought the 
^N threshing machine, a clumsy old concern 
worked by six horses. 

*< * Where did you get the horses ? ' I asked. 

" Two were old, blind animals that belonged 
to some women in the neighborhood ; Dick's 
half dead mules were the second pair and the 
third was a fine U. S. horse and an old 
condemned animal. 

"'How did you happen to have a U. S. 
horse ?' I questioned. 

" The boys that owned the machine 
brought it with them ; they captured it, and 
although two Yankees came and looked on 
while we were threshing, they said nothing 
about the brand on its shoulder. 

«*The boys had as much as they could do 
to feed the machine so I drove. It was tire- 
some, as I had to stand, fearing that my skirt 
might have caught in the machinery if I sat 
down. Dick and Dicky Crofts hauled in the 
wheat and measured it when it was threshed 
and Mrs. Morris and Nancy piled the straw, 
but the work was not finished until twelve 
o'clock the next day, and a dirty looking 
object I was when this, my first threshing 
experience, was over. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



123 



**The sorghum had next to be attended to, 
so Mike turned the old wooden crusher, Mr. 
Burton and Dick fed it, the rest of us stripped 
the cane, while Mrs. Morris attended to the 
boiler, and although the crushing was done 
before dark, the juice was not boiled down 
till near daylight. 

"Dick and Mrs. Morris attended it, we and 
the little boys sat round the boiler fire till 
eleven o'clock roasting nuts and apples, the 
roasted apples reminding me of a suggestion 
of the guard, Vi\ian, in regard to Yankee 
Jenny. She had U. S. branded on her shoul- 
der, and he said if we wished to keep her the 
brand ought to be removed, and that the best 
way was to roast a turnip and apply it hot to 
the letters. 

"We roasted one and Maria held the mare 
while I applied the turnip. The poor thing 
reared and plunged in agony, and then we 
realized what a cruel thing w^e had done ; 
although the turnip did its work and removed 
the brand, I don't think it hurt her long for 
she did not seem to mind it at all when I rode 
her a day or two after to Mr. Oldman's to 
see about our shoes. 

" 'Did he make shoes.? ' I asked. 

"No, but we heard he could tell us where 
to find a shoemaker, so Nancy and I went one 
day to get directions from him. I carried 
with me a piece of sole-leather trunk to make my 



124 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

shoe-soles of, and expected to buy material 
for the uppers. We dined at Mr. Oldman's 
and then started down the other side of the 
mountain to go in search of the shoemaker. 
Mr. Oldman advised me to leave Jenny, as 
the way was so rough, so we only took Mike, 
but relieved him of the saddle so that his 
load would be as light as possible. Half way 
down the mountain side a rustling was heard 
in the bushes below us. Nancy screamed 
out: 'Lod o' mussy! Hit must be Yankees! 
Slip back, Miss Sophy, an' let me ride too!' 

*'I slipped back, Nancy jumped up in front 
and we raced up the mountain, stopping only 
when we reached Mr. Oldman's door, the 
stanch little mule not minding his double 
burden at all. Mr. Oldman laughed at us, 
saying that it was nothing but hogs we had 
heard in the bushes, so we retraced our steps. 
No shoemaker was to be found at the tan 
yard, however, but I engaged some leather 
which was yet in the vat. 

"Jennie needed shoeing again, so this time 
I took her to Mr. Martin's shop, only to find 
that he had no nails, Mrs. Martin intimated 
to me that she had lately seen Confederates, 
but as the house was full of women, strangers 
to me, I dare not ask questions. On reaching 
home I told Miss Patsey and she went to see 
Mrs. Martin the next day. 

"She heard that a son of Mrs. Martin's 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 125 

and a man named Hutchinson were hiding in 
the woods near the house and were in need 
of both food and clothing, but the family- 
were unable to supply their wants as the 
Yankees watched them closely, so Miss 
Patsey proposed that as she was not watched, 
she would carry the soldiers what they 
needed. When she got home it was quite 
dark but Nancy sent for me, so I went at 
once and after hearing what she had to say 
hurried back to our rooms to see what we 
could send them. I found some undercloth- 
ing, two pairs of trousers and two hats, so I 
packed them together with as much food as 
Miss Patsey could carry, and took the bundle 
to her that night. 

"I wanted to go with her, but we had 
agreed that if I did not see her at four o'clock 
in the morning, she was to know that the 
guard at our home was on the watch, and she 
would go without me. I rose before day, but 
the guard was already up, so I did not leave 
my room until long after Miss Patsey had gone. 
She found the poor fellows very hungry and 
ragged, and thankful they were for the sup- 
plies she brought, for they were to return to 
their commands the next day. I regretted 
that the guard had prevented me from going 
with her, as Miss Patsey had to carry the heavy 
bundle alone. 

*'*0h, that didn't make no difference, honey,* 



126 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

said she, *I jist put on the breeches an' slung 
the victuals on my back, an' went on jist as 
slick as you please.' 

''One morning I went home to see how our 
house was cared for and found the lawn cov- 
ered with an immense drove of cattle, and 
the captain of the escort, which always accom- 
panied a drove, was seated in the parlor. Just 
then a heavy thunderstorm came up, and the 
captain, in great trepidation, took off his 
sword and threw it on the piazza, remarking 
as he did it, that 'it was not prudent to have 
metal about one at such a time.* 

"At that moment came a frightfully vivid 
flash of lightning, instantly followed by a 
terrific peal of thunder, making the windows 
rattle and the house shake so badly that I 
thought it had been struck. Every one 
seemed paralyzed by the shock and for a min- 
ute there was a dead silence, first broken by 
direful yells from the direction of the lawn. 
Four soldiers were stretched on the ground, 
screeching and writhing as if possessed with 
the legion that entered the herd of swine. 

"They had been gambling this hot Sunday 
afternoon under a tall pig-nut tree, which the 
lightning had cleft from top to bottom, but, 
strange to say, had not killed or deprived the 
men of the fullest use of their lungs, only 
deadened their lower limbs. The one who 
was least hurt was brought to the piazza 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 27 

where two of his companions walked him up 
and down to restore sensation to his foot 
which was bare, white as marble and appar- 
ently bloodless. 

*'When the rain had ceased and the men 
were gone, I went to look at the pig-nut, and 
at the foot of the tree, amid fragments of 
bark and splintered wood, found a poor little 
flying squirrel and her young family scorched 
and dead. 

"I don't suppose you have forgotten that 
Janet gave Butcher a letter to give to any of 
our pickets he might chance to meet. Well 
here is one from him which was received after 
you left. 

" 'Camp near Chattahoocha River, 
'"July 6th 1864. 
" 'Miss Janet Henry, 

"'Much Esteemed Friend. 

" 'I will avail mjself of this opertunity to let 
you know that I havn't had an opertunity of Complying 
with your request. I have tried it severul times but 
have failed. Once when on picket I came very near 
having an interview with one of my friend Rebels when 
orders came to assault the picket lines and I did not 
get the Chance. 

"'We had a few dayes armistis on picket. We had to 
assault the lines, the 7th Texas regt was on the 
lines that Day in front of us. Our boys and them 
exchanged papers severul times. But after severul 
Dayes hard fighting they abandoned their works around 
Kennesaw Mountain and now we confrunt them at the 
River, they occupy One side and the Yankees the other. 
I can't tell what will Be the next ishue. But I hope 
the Campane will end hear for the Weather is getting 
so warm Out hear that I can hardly tell the truth. 
Miss Janet I Would like very much to have a letter from 



128 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

you I want to know What to do with that, I must con- 
fess that I am in some danger if it should be found in 
my possession it will go harde with me in the future 
But if you will write and let me know if it is your 
request to try longer I will Doo so if you Say so I will 
Destroy it and should I have a Chance I will send a 
few lines if you request it. I remain your true friend 
and well wisher. 

" 'Richard Butcher, 

" 'Co. C. 17 Regt. Ky. Vol., 
" *3 Brigade, 3 Division, 4 Army Corpse.' 

" 'I suppose you wrote at once to him to 
destroy Janet's letter t ' I said. 

" 'Yes, of course,' was the reply. 

" 'What a fancy he has for capital letters, 
and what spelling l' I remarked. 

''Never mind that, it is a kindly letter, and 
it behooves us not to be too particular when 
meeting kindness from a blue coat." 



"When I went for the leather we had 
engaged at the tan-yard," continued Sophy, 
"I lost my way and rode up to a house to 
inquire. The fence was quite high, so that 
although I was on horseback, only my head 
and shoulders could be seen above it, and my 
short hair, pine straw hat and gray jacket 
deceived the women who came out to speak 
to me. She thought I was a scout and 
addressed me as 'Sir,' in the most respectful 
manner. At the tan-yard I found the leather 
ready, and while waiting for it to be rolled 



IN AND OUT OF TPIE LINES. 129 

up I heard a great noise in the next yard. A 
hog had attacked a child and when the father 
went to its assistance, the furious beast tore the 
Uttle one so dreadfully that he was ill for 
months. 

"I carried the leather home and had some 
clumsy yellow shoes made from it^ that 
looked like negro brogans, but were not 
quite so heavy. Colonel Dean was always 
kindly disposed towards us, so when I had 
occasion to go to Mr. McDonald's again, and 
asked him for a pass, he gave me the follow- 
ing: 

'"Headquarters Post, 
" 'Kingston, Ga., 

" 'Sept. 19, 1864. 
" 'Permission is hereby granted to Miss Sophy 
Henry and attendant to go to Mr. McDonald's and 
return (good for five days). 

♦' 'B. D. Dean, 
" 'Colonel 26th Mo. V. I. 
" 'Commanding Post.' 

"Sometime in October General Davis' Corps 
passed us on its way after Hood. It reached 
Mr. Burton's in the morning, remained there 
the rest of the day and that night, leaving 
next morning. As soon as we knew that 
the Yankees were around, we locked all the 
doors, then ran to the dairy at the spring to 
save the milk-pans, and on the way back we 
met Metz, the man from whom Jenny was 
bought, who warned us to look after the cows 



130 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



if we wished to save them. They were at 
once driven to the front of the house and pro- 
tection applied for, then we went after the 
turkeys, caught and put them in a coop. 

**The coop was long and narrow, and we 
soon found that as fast as we put them in at 
one end, a Yankee took them out at the other, 
but this was discovered in time to save two 
or three which had to be hidden in the bottom 
of the china closet. An officer helped us 
catch the ducks which we hid with the turkeys, 
then with much tugging and straining, Mr. 
Burton's old carriage and our buggy were 
dragged up the hill where they would be 
under the guard's eye. Mike had been tied to 
the carriage but a Yankee carried him off. 
The same officer who had helped us with the 
ducks, brought him back, then we put him in 
the tool house which was above the terrace. 
This officer seemed to think the whole affair 
a capital joke and laughed heartily during the 
duck chase. 

**We did not sleep much that night, not 
knowing what the men might do, but every- 
thing passed smoothly and the next morning 
as soon as the troops had left, the cows were 
sent to Mr. Oldman's. That night about ten 
o'clock the cook woke us with the information 
that the Yankees had come back ; so as soon 
as possible we went to the .dining-room, and 
on opening the door were startled to find it 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 131 

full of soldiers. We shut it hastily and 
retreated to the kitchen. 

**The cook was busy preparing General 
Mansfield's supper, which was sent to the 
dining-room as soon as ready. As the servant 
with the tray, opened the door we heard a 
loud peal of laughter, and set our wits to 
work to think what could be affording such 
amusement. When the girl returned we 
learned that the Yankees had put the 
'preacher bone' in the middle of the table 
and were laughing over it, wanting to know 
what it was as they had never seen such a 
thing before. You remember what it was, — 
a section of a horse's back bone dressed up 
with spectacles, gown and bands. 

'^General Mansfield and his men left about 
daylight the next morning and we never saw 
the Yankees in any force afterwards. Not 
long after this the guard Vivian was ordered to 
rejoin his command. 

"In November we were told that Sherman 
and his whole army, which had been for some 
time at Kingston, was soon to abandon this 
part of the country to look up Hood, and we 
thought it time to make what preparations 
we could for the event." 

*'Yes," interrupted my mother, *'I went with 
Dick to the mill, as we now had a four- 
wheeled wagon, and this I had loaded with 
grain, for every one thought the mill would 



132 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

be burned. Indeed, the guard said that he 
*had orders to burn it when he left,' and I 
wished to save as much food as possible. Mr. 
McDonald advised me to go to Kingston and 
ask Sherman not to burn the mill, for it was 
the only one in many miles and if burned the 
suffering among the women and children 
would be great. I went to Kingston, but it 
was a long time before the guard would allow 
me to enter the gate of Sherman's quarters, 
but at length he let me in and as I went into 
the hall an officer met me and curtly de- 
manded my business. When I had stated 
what I wanted, he said: 

" ^General Sherman can't be bothered with 
that.' 

**I still insisted on seeing General Sherman 
myself, and the officer told me he would see 
if the General was at leisure, so popping his 
head in at a door and as quickly popping it 
out, he said: 

"*The General is busy, but sent a message 
to the effect that he would certainly burn the 
mill and would use the torch everywhere that 
suited him.' " 

*'The next day," continued Sophy, **four 
officers and a squad of men came to Mr. Bur- 
ton's, staid all day and went away in the even- 
ing. These were the last Yankees we saw 
until after the surrender." 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 133 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Sophy's story concluded. 

" T N the fall Mr. Burton had sent Biddy to 
I Nashville on business, but she did not 
return until the latter part of November, 
and brought with her a Mrs. Blackwell, the 
wife of a major in our army. Biddy had found 
this poor lady alone and friendless in Dalton, 
which was then on the Yankee line. She was 
sitting on the depot platform with her baby 
in her arms, crying bitterly, and awaiting the 
execution of her sentence which was, that she 
and her two children be carried a certain dis- 
tance into the country and put down. She 
did not know a soul in Georgia, and was one 
of the most timid, shrinking people I ever 
saw. She needed no persuasion to accept 
Biddy's offer of a temporary home, nor did she 
ever know why she had been sent from her 
own home. 

"Mr. Smith reached Mr. Burton's about 
the last of November and I determined to re- 
turn with him to Athens early in December, 
and it was a little before yc" ^eft Savannah 
that I was on my way, not dreaming that our 
meeting was so near. We left Mr. Burton's 
one afternoon quite late, for we intended go- 
ing only as far as the house of Mr. Smith 



134 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

that night, expecting to make an early start 
the next morning. As we passed a house 
some one called out to us that Mr. McDonald 
was just a little way ahead, and to hail him, 
as he wished to see Mr. Smith before he left. 

*'When we had reached a lonely bit of road 
by the churchyard, Mr. Smith endeavored to 
locate our friend by repeatedly calling out his 
name, but there was no answer, until we 
came opposite a large oak, and by the uncer- 
tain light we saw a dark figure emerge from 
the shadow of the tree. 

" 'Is that you, Mr. McDonald.?' I asked 
startled, when, on riding close to him, I saw a 
set look on his face, but which changed in- 
stantly as he recognized me. 

** *Yes, it is I,' he said, throwing down a 
huge stone. 

'* 'What did you intend to do with that 
stone.?' I asked. 

" 'Well,' he replied, 'when I heard Smith 
call, I thought it was one of the scoundrels 
that are prowling about the country since the 
Yankees left, and I supposed he would be up 
to some devilment, so I picked up the rock to 
smash him with.' 

"In his youth Mr. McDonald had been the 
strongest man in the country. And his big 
arm yet retained strength enough to have de- 
stroyed any one against whom he had come 
in contact. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



135 



**We began our journey the next morning. 
Mr. Smith knew the man at the bridge where 
you had so much trouble in crossing after- 
wards, and we met him late in the afternoon 
a quarter of a mile from his house, which was 
but a few steps from the bridge. He told us 
we could find lodging for the following night 
at his house, but we must not attempt to 
cross the bridge until the next day, as sun- 
light would be needed to make the danger- 
ous trip in safety. I thanked him and rode 
up to the gate and was about to dismount, 
when a woman appeared and screamed: 'You 
needn't 'light. You kaint stay here!' 

** 'But your husband said we might,' I re- 
plied. 

*' 'Well, / say you kaint, and that's 'nuff ! ' 
said she. 

" 'We can't cross the bridge in the dark, 
and there is no house near but this, so where 
can we go.?' I asked. 

" 'I don't know, an' I don't kyur! But you 
shaint an' you kaint come in hyur!' she ex- 
claimed spitefully. 

" 'Well,' I replied, quietly, 'if you won't let 
me in the house, I will sit on the piazza until 
your husband comes, and see what he will 
have to say.' I dismounted, Mr. Smith, who 
had taken no part in the conversation, laugh- 
ing softly as he unsaddled Gipsy and put the 
saddle on the piazza. I sat down, and turn- 



136 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

ing to the woman asked 'if forage for the 
pony's supper was in the stable.' The woman 
almost cried with rage as she answered : 

"'Sence I tole you not to come in, an' you've 
done come an' sot yourse'f down an* will stay, 
an' I kaint make you git out, I reckon you 
may as well have victuals for the horse, for I 
'low you'll take hit anyhow. I nuver seed the 
like o' your impidence, I nuver did!' 

*'Just then the husband arrived and gave 
his wife a sound rating; I was very tired and 
asked to be shown to my room, so the wo- 
man motioned me to a door, and growled out 
that I would have to stay with a friend of 
hers, who was already in the room. I open- 
ed the door, and the queerest apparition 
arose from the bed, greeting me with the in- 
terrogation, 'Stranger, who pe's you.-^' 

•'I replied that I was 'sorry to disturb her, 
but that I was told I was to spend the night 
in that room.?' 

" 'I no like dis at all,' said my interrogator, 
who was a little Dutch woman. 

"I assured her that I did not myself find 
the situation an especially agreeable one, and 
doubted not that we would both be more 
comfortable if another apartment could be 
found. 

" *Dat no possible, as you ferry well know,' 
said she. 'Dere is no more rooms.' 

"I signified my regret, and suggested that 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 137 

we make the best of affairs since no change 
was to be effected. She did not reply but 
threw herself back with a discontented grunt. 
At first I thought I would spread my blanket 
on the floor and sleep there, but the night 
was bitter cold and the wind, through the 
many cracks, whistled a savage warning 
against such an imprudence. The little wo- 
man eyed me curiously as I unbuckled my 
pistol and placed it under the pillow. 

" 'Gott in Himmel! Vhat for you do dat?' 
cried she, darting bolt upright. *Te tear 
Gott know nopotty ever do de like o' dat!' 

** 'Never mind,' I answered. 'It won't 
hurt you unless you meddle with it. I al- 
ways sleep with my hand on it, so as to be 
ready in case of robbers or meddlesome people. 

" 'Den I no sleep in dis pet dis night,' said 
she indignantly. *I vill pe kilt teadt pefore 
morning!' 

" *I don't think you'll be hurt,' I said ; 'still 
if you would like to go elsewhere, I will be 
the last one to object.' 

** 'I vill not pe turnt out de room in vich I 
am gone to pedt, — no, not for nopotty!' said 
she, with increasing anger. 

*'I spread my blanket so as to cover up as 
much as possible of the uninviting couch and 
wrapping up in my large double shawl, lay 
down in anything but a grateful frame of 
mind. 



138 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

"My little friend continued to scold, and 
finally said, *Vich vay you turn de hole in dat 
ting?' 

" *It's turned towards the door,' I said, *and 
you must positively be quiet and let me go 
to sleep, or you will make me nervous and 
then I might accidentally turn it towards 
you.* At this she set up an odd little shriek 
and implored me to hold it tight, and after 
many assurances that I was doing so, she 
raised the pillow and looked at my hand to 
satisfy herself that I had told the truth. 

"She awoke me once or twice in the night 
with the inquiry: *Haf you de handt on it 
yet, alreaty.!** In the morning she forgave 
me for frightening her and became quite soci- 
able, even escorting me to the bridge, which 
was in the same condition in which you after- 
wards found it, the flooring gone and only a 
narrow pathway of loose boards. 

*'Gipsy planted her forefeet, put her ears 
back and refused to cross. A huge country- 
man who was waiting until we were over, to 
bring across his wagons and stock, strode up 
to her saying: *ril make her go!' and struck 
her a terrible blow with his heavy whip. The 
poor creature's eyes dilated as if they would 
burst from their sockets, and she squatted and 
trembled. I was on the ground, and sprang 
forward to catch the whip, but was too late. 

**As it the second time curled round her 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 39 

flank, with a snort of terror she reared 
straight up and dashed on to the 
bridge. The planks rattled and seemed to slip 
from under her flying feet and I held my 
breath, expecting every instant to see her 
plunge into the river below, but she crossed 
in safety. I can never forget that man's 
brutality nor could I trust myself to speak to 
him then, and, well pleased with the success of 
his cruelty, he proceeded to take his sheep 
across, taking one by the horns and dragging 
it along, the others following as unconcern- 
edly as if they were on a road twenty feet 
broad. 

**There was some trouble with the cows, 
however, but here again the whip was suc- 
cessfully used, then he and his assistant went 
to work on the wagon. They had only four 
planks wherewith to floor that long bridge, 
but they managed it by laying them parallel, 
the same distance apart as were the wagon 
wheels, pushed the wagon forward until the 
fore wheels were on the ends of the two last 
planks, then they picked up the two that the 
wagon had just left, placed them in front, 
pushed the wagon on them and continued this 
process until the opposite bank was reached. 

"There was a band of terrible desperadoes 
who frequented the vicinity of *Wolf Pen,' 
and when we came in sight of the place, we 
beheld assembled a company of these men. 



140 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

My heart sank within me, but Mr. Smith 
held tight to Gipsy's bridle. 

** *Miss Sophy,' said he, *all depends on 
you. Them men wouldn't listen to me, but 
bein' as you're a lady, perhaps you can keep 
them from troubling us an' save the mar.' 

"Knowing that flight was impossible, I rode 
boldly up to the company and asked for the 
captain, and as soon as he appeared I told 
him Mrs. Blackwell's story, and that I was 
sure he would do all in his power to aid a 
lady in her distressed situation. I asked 
that he would tell his men that she requested 
all soldiers to be kind enough to look out for 
her husband, and if they met him, tell him 
where she was to be found. 

'♦The captain assured us that he was very 
sorry to hear of Mrs. Blackwell's suffering, 
and that he and his men would use every 
exertion to find Mr. Blackwell. 

"I thanked him, and seeing that neither he 
nor the other men seemed disposed to annoy 
us, wished him good-morning and rode off. 
We rejoiced greatly over our escape. Mr. 
Smith thought it wonderful, *for,' he said, *no 
one for months had passed that place unmo- 
lested, and the danger was, of course, greater 
when the desperadoes had the additional 
temptation of a fine young horse in as good 
order as Gipsy was.' 

"During the day we were joined by a pa- 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 141 

roled soldier, a relative of Mr. Smith's, and 
about dusk we stopped in front of a cabin 
where I asked a girl, who stood in the door, if 
we could spend the night there. 

" *No, you kaint,' she replied, *kase thar's 
to be a fly roun' here to-night, an' a heap o' 
boys an' gals is a comin' tew hit, an' thar 
won't be room for youns.' 

*<*What does she mean, Mr. Smith.?' I 
asked in an undertone. *What is a fly roun'.?' 

" 'It's a daince,' he replied, 'an' ef they're 
agoin' to have one in that little shebang, thar 
suttenly won't be no room for us an* we'd 
better git.' 

"When we had gone some little distance, 
the girl was heard whooping after us, but her 
v/ords could not be distinguished. 

" 'Let's hold on a minute. Miss Sophy, an' 
see what she's arter,' said Mr. Smith. 

'* Seeing that we had stopped, she ran half 
way towards us and screamed out, *Ef them 
two gentlemen wants to come to the fly roun', 
they kin come.' 

" Mr. Smith and his friend seemed to think 
this the greatest joke they had ever heard, 
for they sat down on the ground and roared 
with laughter, while the girl continued to 
shriek out her invitation. I asked Mr. Smith 
if he intended to spend the night on the 
ground. 

** 'O Lord, Miss Sophy, o' course not. But 



142 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

to think o' that gal! Don't you know beaus 
is scace ? * 

"In a short time a house was found where 
there was no fly roun*, and a resting place 
for the night was obtained. 

"Just after I reached Athens the telegram 
that Lou had sent was received and in a few 
days we three were once more together." 

Such was the story as told to me by 
Sophy, of her haps and mishaps, from the 
time of my leaving home to my return. 



CHAPTER XV. 

I WILL now return to the time when I 
reached Mr. Burton's house on the 24th 

of December, 1864. The next four days 
were spent in hunting up a team strong enough 
to carry a few of our belongings to our own 
home, and on the 30th of December we left the 
house of our kind friend, with many thanks 
for the shelter he had afforded us in our time 
of need. 

We took with us two mattresses, and just 
enough household ware to meet our needs, 
also a shot gun, powder and shot. To save 
our horses from the thieves, who constantly 
passed in armed gangs, we put them in the 
smoke house, a strong log building, with only 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 43 

one heavy door, across which we laced chains 
with cow-bells attached, so that if the door 
were tampered with in the night the ringing 
of the bells would wake us. 

The parlor served as a kitchen, dining-room 
bedroom and parlor all in one, and from the 
back window the smoke-house door was visi- 
ble, and as my pallet was laid under this win- 
dow, I kept my little seven-shooter and the 
gun, the latter heavily loaded with buck-shot, 
close at hand, intending to kneel and shoot 
through the glass in case the chain was med- 
dled with. 

As Maria and I had to provide the wood 
we kept but one fire, which was really all 
that was needed, for our cooking consisted of 
one loaf of bread a day, which was baked in 
the oven on the hearth, our yeast being made 
from '*Life everlasting," the wild immortelle, 
a very bitter plant. 

Our provisions were flour, salt and yeast, 
absolutely nothing else — yet we were never 
stronger or in better health. Jane Miller, 
who lived with her parents in one of the out- 
houses, had two dogs that hunted rabbits 
very well, and she suggested that we try 
them some night for a possum, Jane saying 
that ''Mrs. Smith had made pies with possum 
lard and they was powerful nice." 

I was delighted with the idea of any break 
in our monotonous life, and eagerly consented 



144 ^^ -^^^ ^^^ ^^ '^^^^ LINES. 

to her proposal. Maria would not go, so the 
party consisted of Jane Miller, Nancy Morris 
and myself. It was a dark night, and the 
ground was frozen as hard as a rock. We 
wrapped up warmly and at eight o'clock, after 
calling the dogs we set out, Jane a little in 
advance with the torch, Nancy following with 
a bundle of lightwood, split fine, and I with 
the axe and matches. 

We turned down the lane and a few min- 
utes walk brought us to what was called the 
**wet weather hollow." During the summer 
this place was dry, but in winter a small 
stream ran through it and at present, owing 
to recent heavy rains, was it unusually full, so 
that to reach the other side we had to **coon 
the fence" which crossed it. Jane, as torch 
bearer, started first and when she had reached 
the panel next to the opposite bank, Nancy 
was on the middle one, and I on the one 
next the bank we had just left, the stream 
being three fence-panels wide. Suddenly, a 
bough which Jane had bent rebounded with 
a jerk and, striking Nancy on the head, 
knocked off her bonnet, and her long, red 
hair falling from the comb, spread over her 
shoulders like a fiery mantle. She was so 
startled by the blow that she let the light- 
wood fall, and catching at it, the unsteady 
rail, on which she was perched, first teat- 
ered and then rolled off into the water 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 145 

below, carrying her with it. The half- 
strangled squeal she gave so frightened Jane 
that she dropped the torch and we were 
left in darkness. Nancy sputtered and 
splashed and Jane, half crying, called out 
to me: 

'*Oh, do stop laifin, an' set studdy, or you'll 
fall an' git the matches wet, an' then whear'd 
we be ? I wisht I hadn't never come, so I do ! " 

Steadying myself as best I could on the 
rickety rail, I struck a match, and as soon 
as Jane had found the bundle of lightwood, 
we lit another torch. Nancy had already 
scrambled out, insisting that she would 
not go home but walk herself dry, so on 
we went. 

We found no possum, but the dogs, after 
chasing a rabbit for some time, and making 
us run ourselves breathless trying to keep up 
with them, stopped at the foot of a hollow 
tree and barked and scratched at the opening 
with the greatest vehemence. Smoking and 
twisting were tried to no purpose; Bunny 
would not leave his hiding place, so the tree 
must be felled. As Nancy and Jane had 
done the twisting and smoking I took the axe 
and went to work on the tree. Nancy 
watched me for a few moments, then jump- 
ing up with a laugh, said : 

<*We'll be till mornin' if we wait on you; 
you'd better take the dogs an' step back a 



146 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

piece, 'cause when the tree falls they'll be 
sure to run under hit an' git hurt ef you 
don't hole 'em." 

Calling the dogs I retreated a short dis- 
tance and sat down with an arm around the 
neck of each, then looked on a scene such as 
I had never before witnessed, this being my 
first night hunt. The tree was in the centre 
of a small spot of ground, bare of anything 
but dead weeds and dried grass, but sur- 
rounded by a dense growth of underbrush, 
which by the flickering light of the fire 
looked like a gigantic wall. 

Jane Miller sat on the ground with her 
hands clasped around her knees, her bonnet 
half off, her head slightly raised and her large 
dark eyes intently fixed on Nancy. Well 
might she look at her for so striking a figure 
is seldom seen. Her bonnet and shawl lay 
on the ground, her long, flame-colored hair 
was still spread over her shoulders and 
reached to her waist, and gleaming with 
every turn of her head. Six feet tall, with 
shoulders as broad and strong as a man's, and 
she plied her axe with the steady, vigorous 
stroke of an experienced woodsman. Pres- 
ently was heard an ominous crack, crack, and 
the tree began to tremble. 

**Git out o' the way, Jane!" exclaimed 
Nancy, stepping aside and leaning on the axe. 
"Git out o' the way, or you'll git a conk on 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



H7 



the head that'll keep you from ever havin' 
another headache." 

Jane jumped up and ran just as the tree 
came down with a crash. The dogs jerked 
away from me, dashed among the yet shaking 
branches, and soon the poor little rabbit was 
dragged forth and killed. After securing our 
prize we set out on our way home but found 
that we were lost. 

*<Never mine," said Nancy, *'let's keep 
agoin', we'll git somewhar or other." After 
walking aimlessly for a while we came to a 
road that looked familiar. 

*'I think," said I, ''this is the road to Mr. 
Burton's ; if so we must be near that Yankee's 
grave, and from there I can find the way." 

At the word grave, Jane looked timidly 
around, and caught hold of Nancy. 

"Let's look for it," said the latter. 

"No indeed! I'll take to the woods first," 
cried Jane and she darted into the bushes. 

As she carried the torch we were obliged 
to follow, and were just in time to see her 
give a tremendous bound over a little red clay 
hillock, drop the torch and dash back to us. 

" It's hit!" she screamed; **it'shit!" 

**What is it.?" questioned Nancy and I 
together. 

"The grave! The grave!" she gasped. 
"Don't ye see hit!" 

"Shet up!" said Nancy indignantly. *'This 



148 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

is twice you've put us in the dark to-night. 
It would sarve you right ef somethin* did 
ketch ye. You shaint tote the totch no 
more an* I don't kyur a bit ef ye do crack 
your shins agin the rocks an' stobs." With 
this she picked up the torch and whirling it 
'round her head soon rekindled the flame. 

Jane made no reply, but her eyes were 
dilated and she kept between us until the 
grave was out of sight. After this we hunted 
often at night and occasionally got a possum, 
which made an agreeable addition to our diet. 

In the latter part of January my father 
came home. I thought he did not at all like 
our mode of living. Three rolls a day to 
which, in his case, was added morning and 
evening a cup of rye coffee without milk or 
sugar, was not a very strengthening diet, and 
he had come home on sick furlough to recruit. 

Soon after his return he had a visit from 
one of his men who was also at home on fur- 
lough. The soldier had heard that the cap- 
tain was living on dry bread, and as he had 
two sides of meat the captain must have one ; 
so saying, he produced a small pig's side from 
a bag and gave it to my father. We were 
truly grateful for this act of generosity. 

One day, my father, who had been to Mr. 
McDonald's, returned with a large piece of 
meat, carefully tied up in a bag. Mr. Mc- 
Donald had been to Haralson county, had 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 149 

brought back a load of beef, and had given my 
father a joint which lasted a long time, for 
we each ate but one small slice a day. Dur- 
ing this time my brother stopped to see us, 
but he staid only three days, for we could 
barely feed him, and there was nothing but 
grass for his horse. 

I remember that one day the mill, our only 
source for food, ground nothing and we had 
at home only just enough flour for one loaf 
of bread, which served us for breakfast and 
dinner. That afternoon as I sat on the front 
steps a woman with a white exhausted face, 
walked up and dropped on the step beside 
me. 

"What is the matter.?" I asked. "Are you 
sick.?" 

"No, not sick — hungry. Hain't ye got 
no thin' to give me to eat.?" 

The poor creature's face was pinched and 
haggard, and her eyes had a hungry, wistful 
look. 

"I'm so sorry," I said, "but we ourselves 
have nothing to eat." 

"Hain't ye got nothin' at the mill.?" 

"Nothing. The wheel has not turned to- 
day." 

She looked straight forward, and clasping 
her hands said, in slow, hopeless tones: "Me 
nor my chillun ain't tasted bread for three 
weeks." 



150 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

"For three weeks! How then have you 
lived?" I exclaimed. 

"The dogs caught rabbits, an* we ate 'em." 

"Why don't you eat rabbits now.?" 

**We kain't," she said with an expression 
of loathing. "They did well enough when 
we had salt to put on *em, but the last o' hits 
been gone ten days, an' now the very sight 
or smell of a rabbit makes me vomit." 

"I can give you a quart of salt," I said, 
"and if the mill ever grinds again, the flour 
will be shared with you." 

"I'll take the salt, an' thank ye," replied 
she. "I had a plenty of everthing, but you 
know what Yankees is, an' they was at my 
house every day while Sherman was here. 
I'll send one o' the chillun to-morrow to see ef 
you git any flour." 

The mill, a half mile away across the mead- 
ow, was directly opposite the house, and 
from my seat on the steps I could distinctly 
see the large overshot wheel, dry and motion- 
less, but just as the sun was setting, a sheet 
of water poured, sparkling and flashing, over 
the wheel, then I heard the sound of the ma- 
chinery, and the next day there was food for 
the poor woman as well as for ourselves. 

There was a depot of supplies at Altoona, 
containing twenty thousand bushels of corn 
and some salt, to be distributed among the 
destitute. A list was made of these unfor- 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 15 i 

tunates and presented to the court for in- 
spection, being approved of after some delay, 
and sent to Altoona, but what became of the 
corn and salt we never knew. 

Five miles from us, at ''Salt Petre Cave," 
were the Nitre Works. These were reopen- 
ed and our mill was promised the grinding of 
the corn and wheat for the workmen. When 
my father came home he had ridden one of 
Mr. Annandale's horses, and when it w^as 
sent back we wrote to Lou and Sophy to send 
us garden seed, for we had none nor had any 
one else. 

When the messenger returned he brought 
letters and a full supply of seed, so with these 
and two bushels of Irish potatoes that Mr. 
Oldman had given us, an excellent garden 
was made. We bought some fowls, and then 
it wRs determined that I should cross the 
Etowah River and trade a quantity of wool 
that we had for some pigs or anything we 
needed that I could find, so one bright morn- 
ing I started with the bale of wool in the ox- 
cart, the driver being the only servant we 
had left. 

As we drove off my father called to me to 
remember Moses, the son of the ''Vicar of 
Wakefield," and that at present we had no 
need of a gross of green spectacles. I felt a 
little nettled but made no reply, determining 
in my own mind to be wonderfully sharp. 



152 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



At the village I was met by an acquaint- 
ance who, wishing to cross the river, joined 
me. We crossed in a flat and spent the 
night with the lady who had been so kind to 
Janet and I when we went through the lines. 
The next day we went from house to house 
peddhng, and in exchange for the wool and a 
large iron pot we had with us, I received 
three pigs, a quantity of bacon and some 
chickens. 

On our return, the ox was so slow and the 
pigs such unsavory travelling companions 
we concluded to walk on ahead. When we 
had gone ten miles, as the sun having set and 
the stars beginning to peep out, we stopped 
at a house to rest and wait until the wagon 
came up, but it was pitch dark when we 
heard the pigs announcing its approach, then 
we walked the remaining five miles behind it, 
but on reaching home I ran ahead of the 
wagon, opened the door and announced that 
the green spectacles were there. They all 
came out with doubtful faces, which settled 
into very satisfied ones when the contents of 
the wagon had been examined. 

About this time President Davis sent Gen- 
eral Wofford to collect and organize the men 
who had come home to upper Georgia. Some 
of these were on furlough, others had left 
their commands to come to the assistance of 
their starving families, and still others were 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 53 

desperadoes who called themselves scouts but 
were, in fact, thieves of the most reckless 
kind. 

Fortunately the country around us had 
been left so desolate that these men could 
not obtain food either for themselves or 
horses. They came to our house but once ; 
my father ordered them off and when they 
saw the captain's bars on his coat, they 
sulkily obeyed. We thought they had left 
the place but in the morning found they had 
gone to the miller's house, ordered his wife 
to cook supper and as soon as they had eaten 
it coolly took possession of the beds, leaiing 
the miller and his family to sleep on the floor 
or to sit up all night by the fire. 

General Wofford soon brought these men 
into order, but we had been so alarmed by 
their lawlessness and fearing for our horses, 
we turned the kitchen into a stable, nailed 
up the outer door and led the horses in through 
the house every night. 

One morning Maria came flying in with the 
announcement that "one of the hens had laid 
a beautiful white egg\" It was looked upon 
with admiring curiosity, for an egg had not 
been seen for months, but, unfortunately, 
the minks got into the poultry house and 
killed all the hens, leaving the poor rooster 
desolate and alone ; so we nailed up the 
holes in the house and bought some more 



1^4 IN -^^^ ^U'^ ^^ '^^^ LINES. 

hens. We also added to our stock of pigs, 
wretched, piney-woods swine they were, of 
the kind that takes two to make a shadow, 
and that can cHmb a stooping tree in an 
emergency but still better than none. 



Sorry enough were we when Gipsy had to 
plow, but true to her docile, Morgan blood 
the brave little mare did not mind it, but 
went as deliberately to work as an old horse 
would have done, although a collar had never 
crossed her neck until the day she was fas- 
tened to the plow. 

As she went up and down the rows, pass- 
ing us as we dropped the corn, she would 
whinny until we patted her, then look into 
our faces with her clear, honest, brown eyes 
as if to ask what it all meant, and why she 
was being handled by a man, for she was so 
accustomed to us, she would not let a man 
touch her if she could help it. When out 
in the pasture, she was to be caught only af- 
ter a long chase unless one of us whistled for 
her, then she would come as obediently as a 
dog. 

I have seen her surrounded by a dozen 
mites of children pulling at her mane, run- 
ning under her, patting her sides, plaiting 
her tail, making her "shake hands," or shar- 
ing their luncheon with her, and always she 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 155 

was as gentle and careful not to hurt them 
as a big Newfoundland might be. Good, faith- 
ful Gipsy! There never lived a truer friend 
than you, and when death came you were 
mourned as one well beloved. 



I cannot tell you how we felt when the 
news of the surrender of Johnson's and 
Lee's armies came. Added to the humili- 
ation of being conquered was the horrible 
idea of living under the government of a peo- 
ple who, in the past twelve months, had 
taught us so many bitter lessons. We wished 
to leave America but, as my father said, 
"our property now was in land alone, — there 
was no money, — it was impossible, and we 
must summon up our fortitude to make the 
best of it." 

No man, not even a Confederate, can ap- 
preciate why submission was easier for the 
men than for the women of the Confederacy. 
They had fought a good fight, and when the 
end came, they could look back on duty well 
done ; but we had simply to suffer. We saw 
deeds of cold-blooded, deliberate cruelty done 
either to ourselves, our families, or our friends, 
and there was no help. Previous to the war 
there did not exist a race of women so ten- 
derly cared for as the women of the South. 
That chivalry — the derision of those who 



156 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

could not comprehend it — was our guard and 
protection. It stood between us and all 
harm; it taught that the strong should pro- 
tect the weak; the brave, the timid. 

By the fortune of war we experienced the 
tender mercies of men who scorned these 
doctrines and who shamed not to battle with 
women; fighting, it is true, not often with 
blows — which perhaps would have been more 
merciful — but with starvation and the torch. 
By the light of their burning homes. South- 
ern women saw their children die of cold and 
hunger, and they heard the incendiaries laugh 
as they quoted the words of one of their lead- 
ers: *'The seed of the serpent must be crush- 
ed from the land." Are these things easily 
forgotten.? 



On the 1 2th of May, 1865, at the village 
of Kingston, General Wofford, with seven 
thousand men, surrendered to General Judah 
of the Federal army. The prisoners were 
paroled and dismissed with the necessary 
rations, everything being done in the quiet- 
est and most orderly manner. One or two 
acts of rudeness were promptly punished, and 
it is but justice to say that the Federal offi- 
cers and soldiers generally, on this occasion, 
behaved well. General Wofford staid with 
us, General Judah camped at the spring while 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 57 

the terms of the surrender were arranged in 
our parlor. 

From the window upstairs we saw Prince 
Salm-Salm, afterwards of Mexican notoriety. 
A short, common-looking, fair-haired, blue- 
eyed, yellow-skinned German he was, but as 
we did not come downstairs we did not hear 
his Highness* voice, nor had my mother that 
honor until he thanked her in tolerably good 
English for the tremendous big breakfast he 
had eaten. 

The Texan to whom Sophy had promised 
a suit of clothes was among the men paroled 
and came to claim the fulfilment of the prom- 
ise. The soldier, who, on the i8th of May 
the year before, had asked me to keep a 
package of hospital sheets for him, on the 
anniversary of that day returned and asked 
for his package, which was forthcoming 
untouched. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

IT was not until after the surrender that I 
heard of the fate of the two scouts, Martin 
and Hutchinson, to whom Miss Patsy Green 
carried the clothes. Martin escaped in safety, 
but not so with Hutchinson, as I was told 
some years after, by his widowed mother, the 
particulars of the death of this, her only son. 



158 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

MRS. Hutchinson's story. 

**We lived near the railroad and there was 
a Yankee killed not far from my house, so 
then General Vandever, who was in command 
with headquarters at Rome, issued an order 
that 'all who lived in three miles o' the road, 
was to leave.' This was a cruel, hard order 
for we hadn't no way o' moving our things 
onless we carried them in our hands, an' the 
Yankees wouldn't move 'em fur us. 

"One o' my neighbor's had a ox wagin, 
an' he moved two trunks full o' things fur 
me, but he hadn't time to do no more. I 
couldn't bar to leave the things I'd worked so 
hard to earn, for I knowed ef they was hard 
to come by afore, when times was good, it 
would be a heap harder, once I lost 'em, an' 
the country so full o' Yankees ; so I spread a 
sheet on the floor, an' put a feather bed on it, 
an' six double- wove coverleds, an' uverthing 
else I could cram in, an' tied it up an' put it 
on my head. If I hadn't a been excited I 
never could a lifted sich a load, much less a 
put it on my head, but I done it then an' 
walked to the top o' the hill. 

"When I got thar my breath was clean 
gone, an' I thought I'd never fetch another. 
Well, I rested a spell an' felt better, but I 
couldn't carry that bundle by myself no more ; 
so as there was two girls with me, I run a 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



159 



rail through the tie o' the bundle, an' they 
tuck one end an* me the t'other. We went 
three miles that a way, an' when we stopped 
my hip was black an' blue, an' there come a 
risin' on it that crippled me for a long time. 

*'It was while I was a cripple an' driv from 
home that my son com.e acrost the lines. He 
was one o' the ten scouts that Miss Sophy 
saw at the burnt house, an' them ten men was 
in the house sixteen days before uver they 
could git a chance to cross agin. This was 
when Sherman was a lookin' for Hood, and 
the scouts was sent to find out Sherman's 
movements. 

**Well, they all got safe acrost, an' Martin, 
he found he had to come back, an' my son 
come with him. It was a mighty hard thing 
to do, because the Etowah river was the line, 
an' all the fords was guarded close, but they 
done it, for my boy knowed uver' foot o' river 
bank an' nuther him nor Martin was afyurd 
o* anything. They knowed the risk, an' 
knowed they'd have to hide out in the bushes 
as they'd done afore, with only the chance o' 
the women's bein' able to dodge the Yankees 
an' bring 'em their vittals at night. 

"It was night when them two, an' another 
scout named Nichols, come to my house, an* 
when I saw my boy a cold chill come over me. 
*0h, my son !' I says, *what made you come 
back ? You'll never cross that river alive agin.' 



l6o IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

*<*Yes, I will, mother/ says he, jist as cheer- 
ful as could be. *Never you fear; I seed the 
Yankees a robbin* an' a plunderin* our house 
an* turnin' you out o' doors, an' me not able 
to help you, an' I couldn't go away till I seen 
you once more an' knowed how you was 
agoin' to live.' 

*<Well, I didn't say no more, because I 
didn't want to put him out o' heart, but I 
felt I was seein' the last o' my child. We 
give 'em to eat o* the best we had, which 
was poor enough, but they was nigh famished 
an' eat hearty. When they was done my 
boy took out his pocketbook, an' says he 
then: 

" 'Mother, there's a heap o' papers in there 
an' some Confederate money. I wish you'd 
take all the papers out except my pass from 
the Captain, leave that an' the money an' put 
the papers away. If uver I come back 
they'll be o' use to me, an' ef I don't you'll 
want 'em to remember me by.' 

<'The pass 'lowed him to go to Alabama, 
whar my daughter lived, whar he was to get 
another horse. I went an' got my own 
pocketbook an' I put his pass an' money in 
it, an' give it to him an' kep his own instead. 
There was eighty dollars in Confederate bills 
in the book, but it didn't all belong to him, for 
he was takin' it out to the men in his com- 
pany. Their wives sent it 'cause it wasn't o' 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. l6l 

no use to them here among the Yankees, an' 
it would be to the men. 

*'My boy's halter was worn out an' I give 
him a nice, new one. He didn't put it on his 
bridle but wrapt it roun' an' roun' his waist 
an' tied it, an' then they said good-by an' left. 
They hadn't been gone more'n a hour an' a 
half, when Martin an' Nichols come back. 
They said my boy was captured, or killed, or 
had crossed the river. 

'*For all the woods was so thick with Yan- 
kees, they'd gone on without seein' one. They 
was ridin' one behind the other, an' my boy 
was in front, an' when they got opposite the 
gin-house, which was close to whar they was 
to cross, somebody in it halted 'em an' my son 
fired at the house an' dashed past t'wards the 
ford. The other two knowin' they couldn't 
cross after what had happened, separated an' 
run different ways, as they thought the Yan- 
kees had seen their tracks an' hid in the gin- 
house to ketch 'em as they went back. 

*'My house, because o' the Yankees, wasn't 
no place for Nichols an' Martin, so we sent 
'em to Mr. Oldman's, knowin' he'd be good 
to 'em, an' besides, it was the safest place any 
where abouts. 

*'The pain in my hip was terrible, but I for- 
got it, thinkin' about my boy, for I knowed he 
were either a prisoner or dead. Seven long, 
dreadful days an' nights went by an' we 



l62 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

hadn't heard nothin', but on the eighth day, 
between sunset an' dark, a Yankee come an' 
knocked at the door. We was surprised to 
see one of 'em at that hour, for you know they 
was always afraid to go to our houses except 
in the broad dayUght, an' then they didn't 
often knock but jist walk in. 

''My boy had told us to be civil to 'em, so 
we asked him in, an' he come an' took a chair, 
then asked all sorts o' questions. *Did I 
have a son, an' what was his name ; did I 
have a daughter, an' did she live in Alabama, 
an' what was her name.' We answered him 
polite, but he looked restless an' oneasy, an' 
didn't stay but a few minutes, but went to 
another house where a neighbor was livin'. 
He didn't stay thar long nuther, but come 
out an' leant on the fence. Then the neigh- 
bor come to my house an' tole me that he 
had said *there was a man found drowned in 
the river, an' from the answers we'd give his 
questions he believed the drowned man was 
my son, an' he give her five dollars an' 
twenty cents in Confederate money an' said 
it was his share o' what had been found in 
the pocketbook.' He said he 'hadn't the 
heart to come an' tell me himself.' " 

The poor woman paused a moment, then 
covering her face with her apron sobbed 
out, "Oh, my boy, my boy! You was so 
good, an' so brave, an' so gentle! An', 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 63 

though I say it, no better man than you ever 
lived." 

After a time she removed her apron, 
choked down her sobs and continued: 

**I was too crippled to walk alone, but I 
asked my neighbor to give me my crutch an' 
to help me ask for my child. They helped 
me. When I got to the gate whar the Yankee 
stood, I fell down at his feet, an' put my hand 
on his knee, an' begged him — for God's sake! 
to give me back my boy. It wasn't much for 
a mother to ask for her dead child, an' he said 
I 'should have my boy, for he would get a per- 
mit from the Captain to let me go an' git 
him.' 

**He kep' his word, an' come next mornin' 
with the permit an' twelve men for a guard. 
We got a ox-cart, an' some o' the neighbors 
went with me to where they'd buried him in 
a shallow grave in the sand, close down to the 
water's edge, an' they took him up, an' we 
carried him to the church, an' I bathed him 
an* dressed him myself. They didn't want 
me to do it, but I would, for I felt that his 
mother's hands should be the last that 
touched him. 

**His head was crushed an' bloody, an' his 
chest was bruised an' broken, an' his hands 
was tied with the halter I'd give him. They 
said they'd 'found him lying across a log,' but 
you know it wasn't so, for if he had been in 



164 IN AND OUT OP^ THE LINES. 

the water it would a washed his hat away, an* 
he was buried with it drawed down over his 
face. They wanted me to believe that he'd 
struck agin a limb that hung over the road, 
that night he charged past the gin-house, an' 
was stunned an' fell off in the water. But 
that couldn't be, for when I bathed him his 
limbs was supple, an* the blood flowed from 
the bruises on his arm, an' that couldn't 
have happened ef he'd been dead for seven 
days. I think they captured him, an' tried to 
make him tell on his companions, an' when 
he wouldn't, as I know he wouldn't, I believe 
they beat him to death. 

"We hadn't any coffin, nor anything to 
make one of, but just only a box, an' such 
nails as we could draw out o' the walls. 
When all was ready, they laid him in the cart, 
six o' the Yankees rode on one side and six 
on the other, an' I rode behind, and the neigh- 
bors walked beside me. 

" A company o' Yankees met us, an' they 
cursed us, an' cursed my dead boy, an' wanted 
to stop us, but the guard showed the permit 
an' they was forced to let us alone. An' so 
with them curses yet ringin' in the air, my 
child was put into his grave. Oh, it was 
hard! Not even to bury my dead in peace." 

Mrs. Hutchinson's story affected me great- 
ly and often, to this day, I think of her sad 
trials. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 65 



CHAPTER XVII. 

NOT long after hearing Mrs. Hutchinson's 
story, I was in Cassville for the first 
time since passing through it on the 
afternoon of the 24th of December, 1864. 
Then the ruins were not two months old, and 
solitary chimneys, blackened walls, and bits 
of charred timber showed how recent the 
devastation had been, but at this time a few 
of the inhabitants had returned, and were 
living in such houses as their scanty means 
had enabled them to build. 

Most of the chimneys had fallen or been 
removed, while the ground around them was 
green with wheat and clover. Many small, 
reddish yellow mounds were visible, with 
here and there an entire brick lying near by, 
and showing what the mound once was. The 
luxuriant growth of the past years had nearly 
obliterated the incendiaries track but from the 
soil only, for in the memory of those whose 
homes were burnt before their faces, it was 
as distinct as when first made. The eyes 
of the lady we visited flashed as she spoke of 
the memorable fall and summer of 1864. 

"There was," she said, *'an especial spite 
against Cassville, because of its change of 
name. When the war began it was the 
county town of Cass County, but after our 



l66 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

victory at Manassas the county was named 
Bartow, and the town Manassas." 

"Were you at home when the Yankees 
came.?" I asked. 

'' No," she replied. *' We were at Carters- 
ville. We intended remaining at home until 
the expected battle should be over, but find- 
ing that our house Vvas between the two 
armies and would be exposed to the fire of 
both, we left in such haste that we carried 
nothing but the clothes we were then wearing. 
I stood all night at the gate watching the 
army ; at last we saw that it was certainly re- 
treating. My father wished my two elder 
sisters to go out with some friends, and in- 
tended himself to return with my mother and 
the younger children to Cassville. My sisters 
left with our friends, expecting that I would 
follow in a few minutes, but I told my father 
that I would not leave my mother, and we 
implored him to go on with the Confederates, 
for we knew to what indignities he would be 
subjected if he remained. At length he 
yielded to our persuasions and left with our 
retreating army ; my mother and I with the 
younger children, walking back to our home. 

'* It is scarcely necessary forme to describe 
the condition in which we found it, for it pre- 
sented the appearance common to all houses 
which had been looted by the Yankees, but 
not actually destroyed. Not one of us had a 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 167 

change of clothing left, and among the rub- 
bish composed of broken furniture, fragments 
of glass, china and books, shreds of clothing 
and bed linen, we discovered two sheets 
and one table cloth not torn past mending. 
Of the table cloth I made six towels, but the 
Yankees stole them from the tub, so I had 
my work for nothing. 

** I found an old faded calico dress which 
they had thought beneath their notice, and 
had only wiped their muddy feet on. I washed 
it and was delighted to find it in tolerably good 
repair ; so this, with an old muslin, from which 
they had torn the flounces, constituted my 
wardrobe, for I gave my mother the dress I 
had escaped in, as it was a very nice one." 

" Had you any provisions ?" was asked. 

** Not in the house, but we had a quantity 
of wheat stored in the business part of the 
town, and when the Yankees were taking it, 
my mother went with my little brothers and 
making several trips to and from the store- 
house, succeeded in saving some bushels." 

"Was there a mill near by ?" 

** No, the nearest mill was fifteen miles 
away, and it cost us a thirty mile walk every 
time we went." 

** But you did not yourself carry the grain 
that distance.^" I asked. 

'* Oh, no ! We had a dilapidated buggy 
and a condemned horse. Several families 



1 68 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

would club forces, load the buggy with all 
the wheat they could get, and then we 
walked and drove our scarecrow, which 
hobbled along after a fashion. We always 
went ourselves, for if we sent the boys alone, 
the Yankees would be sure to take whatever 
they had. There were only three men left 
in the town, and they were very old — past 
seventy. The Yankees paid even less respect 
to them than to the boys. 

** Lieutenant Alden, the Commissary at 
Kingston, was very kind to us, for knowing 
our destitute condition and that my father 
was a Mason, he sent us provisions whenever 
an opportunity occurred, and from any of the 
women he bought berries or other fruit, much 
more than he had any use for, and paid them 
double the value in provisions. 

*' In the summer a squad of Yankees, who 
were camping in the college grounds, were 
one night surprised and captured, one of them 
being killed in the fight, but we knew nothing 
of the occurrence till next morning when 
some passing Yankees found their dead com- 
rade. They promptly fired the college build- 
ings, and coming on to our house, which was 
the nearest one, declared they meant to burn 
it also, and would, had not my little sisters run 
to an officer who was passing and begged him 
to protect us. He seemed much affected by 
their terror, he having two little girls of his 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 169 

own at home, 'for whose sakes,' he said, *the 
house should be saved.' Then he sent the 
men away. 

''Occasionally our scouts came through the 
town and once a regiment of Yankees had 
just passed, when four Confederates appeared 
following them. One was in advance of the 
other three, and while the Yankees were 
crossing the hill he galloped towards them 
and fired. I suppose they thought a large 
body of Confederates were near, for they 
retreated to the next hill and forming in 
line held that position for several hours. 

" The scout rode into our yard and sat on 
his horse in full sight of the Yankees, laugh- 
ing and talking as coolly as if there were never 
a one in Georgia. 

" An order was issued that all the women 
should leave the town and go at least three 
miles into the country. This order was en- 
forced except in the case of three families, 
who, it was said, were allowed to remain be- 
cause they promised not to feed or aid the 
scouts in any way. We went only two miles, 
and the Commandant at Kingston — I think 
it was Colonel Dean — said he 'would not 
measure the distance.' 

" After an absence of a week, finding that 
the house was not burned, we returned 
without permission and were allowed to re- 
main. Others did as we had done, some were 



lyo IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

as fortunate, but others were ordered back. 
One lady, I remember, had brought a load of 
furniture to her home, and was bringing an- 
other when the Yankees met her and ordered 
her back ; but she watched for a chance and 
when they were away, came in and took pos- 
session of her house where she was suffered 
to stay until the town was burned." 

** When did that happen .?" I asked. 

** On the 5th of November, I think." 

** Was it done by order, or by stragglers }'* 

**It was burned by the Fifth Ohio cavalry 
commanded by Colonel Heath and Major 
Thomas. Colonel Heath said that * Sher- 
man's orders were that not a house, except 
the churches should be left within the limits 
of the incorporation.' He did not show the 
order though. 

" I begged him not to burn our house as it 
was beyond the limits, and he could spare it 
without disobeying orders. He asked me if 
I had a *Union flag.?' I told him *I had not, nor 
did I believe there was one in the place.' 

" 'Then,' said he, * if one is given you, 
will you raise it over your house ?' 

" *No,' I said, * I love my home and God only 
knows what will become of us if you burn it, 
but I will rather lose it than keep it by such 
dishonorable means.' 

" He would not say that the house was 
not to be burned, but he did spare it and 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



171 



three others in which there were sickness, and 
he said that * rather than execute another such 
order he would resign.' " 

*' Had you any food.'*" was my next question. 

**Do you mean on the day of the burning?" 
she asked. 

**Yes," I replied. 

**I will tell you. There were in our house 
my mother, a lady friend, myself and six 
children. That morning there was flour 
enough to make one large biscuit. My 
mother rolled the dough out as thin as pos- 
sible and when it was baked, divided it among 
the children and we three tasted no food that 
day. The terrible excitement kept us up. I 
staid down among the burning houses helping 
our friends save all that could be saved that 
the Yankees did not take themselves. 

^'Colonel Heath promised a lady whose 
house was on the corner and rather isolated, 
that if it did not catch from the other build- 
ings it should not be burned. It caught once 
or twice and her daughter put it out, then a 
private came and set it on fire. She again 
put it out, and told him what Colonel Heath 
had said. He did not reply, but walked off 
and in a few moments returned with a bottle 
of turpentine which he emptied on the floor 
and touched with his torch. In an instant 
the room was in flames and all further effort 
hopeless. 



172 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

"That night as I was standing with a party 
of friends around a fire in the street, I sudden- 
ly remembered that I had eaten nothing that 
day and felt ravenously hungry. A little boy, 
the son of the lady I had been helping, sidled 
up to me and softly pulling my dress to at- 
tract my attention, slipped two biscuits into 
my hand. His little fingers were grimy with 
the smoke and cinders that had been flying 
about, and with his frequent handling the bis- 
cuits were nearly black, but they were far too 
precious for one to think of such a small 
matter as dirt. I declare I felt perfectly 
hysterical when I saw the food, and the hard- 
est struggle I ever had with myself was to 
refrain from eating it. But I did refrain and 
ran home to feed the children before hunger 
should make me break my resolution. That 
night I ate two little watery potatoes that 
were given me." 

'* Had you any food the next day .?" I asked. 

"Yes, we had a bushel of wheat at the 
mill which the boys were after. They were 
on their way home when they saw the smoke 
and hiding the horse and buggy in the woods, 
came home late at night ; then in the morning 
they went back and found everything safe. 
Colonel Heath promised to send us provis- 
ions, but he did not. Perhaps he could not." 

" How did the women generally behave ? " 
was my next question. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



173 



"With the greatest composure. Some 
made no attempt to save anything, but, with 
the reckless calm of desperation, sat quietly 
and watched their homes go up in smoke. 
Sherman's motives seemed to be the pleasure 
he derived from torturing women and chil- 
dren. There could be no other motive, for 
the town was two miles from the railroad and 
contained no buildings of importance, and he 
well knew every circumstance connected with 
that little town. How he must have rejoiced 
that dismal, sleety November night, when he 
thought of the helpless women and children 
who were spending it under a sky as pitiless 
as himself! We did not need the battery he 
sent to keep us quiet while his men did their 
devil's work that day, but perhaps he thought 
we would resist and in that event the cannon 
would save all further trouble." 



I asked another lady, whose house had been 
burned, '*what the Yankees said when she 
was notified that the order was to be exe- 
cuted." 

**I heard the horses* hoofs," she said, '*and 
went to the door and as I opened it, a party 
of them drew up at the gate. 

*' *Do you live here .?' asked one. I said * I 
did.* 

" 'Then get your things out as fast as you 



174 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



can,' he said, *for in twenty minutes your 
house will be in a blaze.' 

" * Where shall I put them .?' I asked, as he 
turned to leave. 

***On the other side of the street, out of 
the way of the fire,' he replied, galloping 
away after his companions. 

**We went to work at once and moved the 
furniture across the street, two privates help- 
ing us, and all was done that we could do in 
the hour before the firing party got to us. 
There was a quantity of forage for the cows 
stored in the second story, and piles of this 
was placed in two rooms, the doors and win- 
dows opened so that the draught would be 
good, the torch applied, and in a few minutes 
the entire building was in flames." 

** Where did you spend the night.?" I asked. 

**Like all the others, out in the street," she 
replied. 

"But why did you not go into the 
churches?" 

** Because we could not carry what we had 
saved so far, and there were so many Yan- 
kees prowling about, picking up whatever 
they fancied. We were afraid to leave what 
little was left us." 

"Had you no shelter at all.?" I asked. 

"None but what we made for the children. 
We leaned planks against the graveyard 
fence, spread blankets on them, and made 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 75 

beds underneath them for the children. They 
slept, but my sister and I sat up to watch the 
cows which we had shut up in the stable." 

** Since your stable was not burned why did 
you not seek shelter in that ?" I inquired. 

** Because we were afraid the Yankees 
would burn it over our heads. We preferred 
staying out in the sleet and rain, which fell 
throughout the night, to trusting to Yankee 
mercy." 

"Did you ask why the town was burned.^" 

"Yes. The men said there was no reason 
but * orders,* and these they were not sorry 
to execute." 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

IN the summer of 1865 we were all at home 
again, where we heard from Janet and 
Nelly the story of Sherman's occupation 
of Savannah. Janet at that time had a place 
in a hospital, and was able to see and thor- 
oughly understand the horrible condition in 
which our poor men were landed by the boats 
that brought them from the North. 

Ten thousand were expected, but I believe 
not more than three thousand came, arriving 
on Saturday, November 12th, 1864, while 
we were still at Montgomery. Janet did not 
enter regularly upon her duties until after 



176 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

Lou and I had left Savannah, which was on 
December loth of the same year. 

The prisoners were carried to Hospitals 
Nos. I and 2, to the "Wayside Home," and to 
the "Firemen's Hall," and all that could not 
be accommodated in these buildings were 
received into private families. Nearly every 
woman in the city went to the wharves to 
meet them, each one eager to aid these poor 
tortured wrecks of humanity. The condition 
of the men being horrible to an extreme, 
scarcely looking human, nearly naked, cov- 
ered with vermin and festering sores, blind and 
lame, many dead or dying — these heroes were 
received with earnest, venerating sympathy. 
It was thought an honor to be allowed to 
nurse them. 

When the city was evacuated, three had to 
be left, the others had died or managed to 
hobble along with the Confederates. It was 
a rule in the hospital that patients should not 
draw the covering over their faces for, hidden 
in this way, to satisfy the cravings of their 
half-starved bodies, they would eat improper 
food. 

The day the Yankees entered the city the 
Matron of the Firemen's Hall Hospital, to 
which Janet belonged, saw one of these men 
th the sheet over his head. 

*'Simmons," she said, **don't you know it 
is against the rules to cover your head.!*" 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 177 

On removing the bed-clothes, she found in 
his hand not food, but an open knife. 

''What are you going to do with that 
knife?" she asked. The expression of his 
face told her even before he replied. 

"I will kill myself rather than fall into 
Yankee hands again. My sufferings were 
too terrible and I will not endure a repeti- 
tion." 

The knife was taken from him. It is not 
easy to beUeve that in a civilized country men 
of the highest rank deliberately inflicted upon 
helpless prisoners, tortures so horrible as to 
make them prefer suicide to life in their 
hands, yet the facts prove this to be true. 

The Confederate authorities tried again and 
again, in vain, to effect an exchange of prison- 
ers, and upon this subject, Vice President 
Alexander H, Stephens, says, in the twenty- 
second chapter of his book, entitled ''The 
War Between The States : 

'*. . . But the great question in the mat- 
ter is, upon whom rests the tremendous 
responsibility of all this sacrifice of human 
life with all its indescribable miseries and suf- 
ferings. The facts beyond question or doubt 
show that it rests entirely upon the author- 
ities in Washington. It is now well under- 
stood to have been their settled policy in con- 
ducting the war, not to exchange prisoners. 
The grounds upon which this extraordinary 



178 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

course was adopted were, that it was human- 
ity to the men in the field on their side, to 
let their captured comrades perish in prison 
rather than to let an equal number of Con- 
federate soldiers be released on exchange to 
meet them in battle. Upon the Federal 
authorities, and upon them only, with this 
policy as their excuse, rests the whole of this 
responsibility. ..." 

Strange, is it not, that the two peoples, 
subject to the same civilizing influences, with 
the exception of slavery, living for so many 
years under one government, and in such con- 
stant and intimate association, should yet 
differ so widely in their understanding of 
what is cruel or humane. 

Listen to what President Davis said, after 
enumerating the outrages upon noncom bat- 
ants, women and children, of which the Fed- 
eral troops, by command of their Government 
had been guilty. 

". . . All these outrages must remain un- 
avenged except by the universal reprehension 
of mankind. In all cases where the actual 
perpetrators of the wrongs escape capture, 
they admit of no retaliation. The humanity of 
our people would shrink instinctively from the 
bare idea of urging alike war upon the sick, the 
women and the children of an enemy. . . ." 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



179 



On the 14th of December, Janet writes in 
her diary of the fall of Fort McAllister. On 
Tuesday the i6th she drove with Mr. Annan- 
dale to Beaulieu and saw seven Yankee gun- 
boats. Two were near the Beaulieu Battery, 
and when they had gone on to Montgomery, 
a half mile distant, they saw the largest of 
these boats drop two shells into the battery 
they had just left. On Monday, December 
19th, she writes: 

"It has come at last. The town will 
be evacuated to-morrow. My poor father 
has come in jaded and worn out. Nelly 
and I have packed up everything for him and 
he has gone to Whitmarsh to spike the guns. 
Mr. Annandale had a few hours leave of 
absence last night and came home. His corps 
has not yet received orders to leave." 

Tuesday, Dec. 20th. "Orders for the corps 
came to-day. Last night at eleven o'clock, 
father came in with his battalion. All the 
clothing and blankets at the Firemen's Hall 
Hospital were given to me, the battahon was 
ordered round, and I gave out the articles to 
the men myself. Father left us at three this 
morning. In his feeble condition I am glad 
to know that he has secured a mule and will 
not have to walk. 

"At ten Nelly and I went to the Signal 
Corps office with Mr. Annandale. We intend- 
ed to stay just long enough to say good-by, 



l8o IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

but we found the men busy burning des- 
patches and, offering to assist them, remained 
until three in the afternoon. 

"There were many things in the office that 
we would have been glad to take, but we did 
not like to ask for them, so suppose the Yan- 
kees got them. Much to Nell's amusement I 
brought away a little glass salt-cellar. She 
calls it my 'sentiment.' While in the office a 
huge demijohn, carboy, I believe they called it, 
of some horrible explosive stuff was brought 
downstairs, and every one ran as it approached. 
We wanted to see it, but were promptly 
ordered away ; so watching from the balcony 
we saw its bearers throw it over the bluff, then 
run as blasters do when they have lit the fuse. 
As it struck the water it exploded harmlessly. 

''The Signal Corps left at three o'clock on 
the Jeff Davis, and the men seemed delighted 
at the prospect of active service. Nelly and 
I went home to prepare for the Yankees, but 
knowing that we should be short of funds and 
remembering our old nurse's favorite rhyme, — 

" 'Ingin pudden an' punkin pie, 
Make dem Yankees jump sky high,' 

we bought three pumpkins for twelve dollars 
in Confederate money, intending to verify the 
rhyme. The rest of our money we spent for 
tobacco, which we knew would be salable." 
Wednesday, Dec. 2ist. "This morning I 



Ix\ AND OUT OF THE LINES. i8l 

was Startled at six o'clock by hearing that the 
Yankees were in the market. I had barely 
time to dress and run downstairs, when a 
heavy column came from the depot down the 
street. 

**An aid, w^ho gave his name as William 
Wright, came to the house and asked for 
quarters for General Barnum, but I told him 
there were only women and children in the 
house, and asked him to find quarters else- 
where. He was civil, but still insisted on 
taking the rooms. Then Nelly said : 'There 
are eight children here, all under five years of 
age. I don't think you would find a stay in 
this house very pleasant.* 

" 'Good God ! * he cried, throwing up his 
hands. *Eight under five! VWgoanyw/iereelsQl' 

"To be rid of him we directed him to a 
vacant house across the street, of which he at 
once took possession. 

"There were really eight little children at 
the house: Nelly's two, Mary Randolph's two 
and four negro babies downstairs. 

"The back gate was twice broken open by 
officers coming to examine the stables, so 
Nelly ran across to General Barnum's office, 
and asked Lieutenant Wright to come to our 
assistance. He returned with her, sent the 
men away, and gave us a permanent guard. 
General Barnum has appropriated the stables. 
So far nothing has been stolen but the turkeys." 



l82 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

Thursday, Dec. 22d. ''To-day two hundred 
Confederate prisoners were halted opposite 
our house. They looked tired and hungry, 
and we determined to feed them. It was 
about dinner time and quickly all the dinners 
in the neighborhood were collected, but how 
to get the food to the men was a question, for 
a review or something of the kind had been 
going on, and the Yankees were in line down 
the middle of the street, between our house 
and our men, and well did we know that the 
trays of food would be emptied before we could 
cross. Nelly and Miss Moodie went to Gen- 
eral Barnum's office to ask to whom must we 
apply for permission to feed the Confederates, 
and for a guard to protect the food. 

''The orderly rudely directed them to Cap- 
tain Wilson, one of Barnum's staff, but he 
was roughly indifferent to their request. 
Finally Lieutenant Wright came and told 
Nelly that she must apply to the * Captain 
of the guard.' They found this officer far 
down the street, and Nelly politely invited 
him to dinner. He looked at her in astonish- 
ment as she repeated the invitation which, 
after carefully arranging his weapons, he 
accepted ; then they brought him to the din- 
ing-room, gave him a good dinner and some 
wine. 

"'Do you know why we invited you to 
dine?' asked Nelly. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 183 

** 'Because you like us, I suppose,' he replied. 

"*No, indeed!' she exclaimed. *We hate 
you as all good Confederates should !' 

" 'Then what made you ask me to dinner .^' 
he inquired with an astonished and naturally 
resentful face. 

"'Because,' she replied, *you are the cap- 
tain of the guard, and now that we've fed you, 
our enemy, you cannot refuse to let us feed 
our friends, the Confederate prisoners.' 

"'That's so,' he answered, looking rather 
confused and rising. 

" 'But you must give us a guard,' continued 
Nelly, 'for you know if you do not, your 
men will empty the trays before we get half 
across the street.' 

"Nelly and Miss Moodie went with him 
and after a while returned with a guard of 
fifteen Yankees. The servants carried the 
trays, each tray having a guard of two men 
besides a woman, the latter to see that they 
did their duty. As we crossed through the 
line of Yankee troops, brown paws darted 
over the guard's shoulders, snatched at the 
food, and not one hand went back empty. 
We demanded of the guards to do their duty; 
then they shoved the men back with their 
bayonets. Our poor fellows were nearly 
starved, but waited patiently and quietly to be 
helped. Hungry as they were, there was no 
snatching or pawing, although they saw that 



184 IN AND OUT or THE LINES. 

the supply of food we had brought was not 
half enough." 

Friday, Dec. 23d. "The prisoners were 
marched by again to-day, but this time they 
did not stop, so our two little cousins were 
sent to them with water, the boys running 
along the line until all had been helped. 
While they were passing, Nelly threw open 
the window and we waved our handkerchiefs 
to them, calling out : *God bless you! Good- 
by.' 

**This afternoon a Confederate officer came 
to the door. He was one of the prisoners who 
had passed in the morning. We learned that 
he was on parole, a Kentuckian, and a per- 
fect stranger in Savannah. 

"'I know no one,' he said, *but from your 
spirited conduct this morning, I thought it 
likely, for the sake of the cause, you could tell 
me where I had best go.' 

**He is with us now, for, of course, Nelly at 
once asked him to stay." 

*'Nelly's sister-in-law, Mrs. Randoph,and her 
aunt. Miss Moodie, were living in the same 
house with Nelly and Janet at this time." 

Saturday, Dec. 24th. "Mary Randoph's car- 
riage was taken to-day by General Barnum. 
We had thought it quite safe, for on the day 
of the evacuation, all the men-servants having 
been sent away, and the women being crazy 
with excitement, Mary had taken off one of 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 185 

the wheels, rolled it up four flights of stairs 
and hid it in the garret. General Barnum 
heard of the carriage from his grooms, 
who are forever in our stable, and sent to 
Mary for it, but she refused to let him have 
it though he sent again and again. At length, 
fearing he would take the guard from us, or 
make his grooms annoy us even more than 
they now were, she let him have the use of it 
on condition that he supplied her with fresh 
beef." 

Sunday, Dec. 25th. "Went to the hospi- 
tal as usual. As Mr. Coly has not yet re- 
turned, Christ Church was closed, but St. 
John's was open and filled to overflowing. 
The rector, Mr. McRae, was assisted by a 
Yankee chaplain and many of the communi- 
cants left without partaking of the sacrament. 
This has been a sorrowful Christmas day." 

Monday, Dec. 26th. "General Barnum 
declares he made no agreement to supply 
Mary with fresh meat, and professes to be 
much shocked at her presumption in asking 
him to fulfil such an agreement. And so 
after much discussion, for he has been here 
himself, she has succeeded in recovering her 
carriage." 

Tuesday, Dec. 27th. "The Yankees did 
not 'jump sky high,' but they have bought 
all the pies we made and we have cleared 
fifteen dollars in greenbacks. Through the 



l86 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

guard we exchanged tobacco for sugar to put 
in the pies, and the servants sold them. Only- 
one tray full of cakes has been stolen from 
us. But two of our little cousins having an 
ill mother, and their servants having all left, 
determined to surprise her with some green- 
backs, so they made some cakes, and send- 
ing their little brother out to sell them, stood 
at the window to watch the progress of affairs. 
The Yankees threw the boy down, ate the 
cakes, and beat the tray to pieces. 

"Nelly's cow gives more milk than we need, 
so she sells the surplus. A dirty looking 
private came to buy some, and she told him 
it was one dollar a quart. He scowled at her 
and replied: *The orders is to put every- 
body in jail who sells milk at more than fifty 
cents a quart.* 

*''! don't believe you,' Nelly said. *If you 
do not want to pay my price, you can't get 
the milk. You must go away, or I will call 
the guard.' At mention of the guard he 
walked off muttering. 

" Many ladies are selling their ball dresses 
and cast-off finery to the negro women, one 
of our friends having sold an old silk for one 
hundred dollars. The Yankees and negroes 
appear to be on the most intimate terms, — 
a perfect equality prevails." 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 87 

In a letter to the Secretary of War, dated 
Jan. 2d, 1865, Sherman says: 

*^ . . Mr. Barclay, former consul at New 
York, representing Mr. Molyneux, former con- 
sul, but absent, called on me in person with 
reference to cotton claims by English sub- 
jects. He seemed amazed when I told him 
I should pay no respect to consular certifi- 
cates ; and that in no event would I treat an 
English subject with more favor than one of 
our own deluded citizens; and that for my 
own part, I was unwilling to fight for cotton 
for the benefit of Englishmen openly engaged 
in smuggling arms and munitions of war to 
kill us ; that, on the contrary, it would afford 
me great satisfaction to conduct my army to 
Nassau and wipe out that nest of pirates. 

"I explained to him, however, that I was 
not a diplomatic agent of the United States ; 
but that my opinion, so frankly expressed, 
was that of a soldier, which it would be well 
for him to heed. It appeared also that he 
owned a plantation on the line of investment 
to Savannah, which, of course, is destroyed, 
and for which he expects me to give him 
some certificate entitUng him to indemnifica- 
tion, but which I declined emphatically." 

The Christian spirit of the English in pa- 
tiently submitting to Yankee impertinence is 
truly wonderful. I know they are a phleg- 
matic people, and might not think such small 



l88 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

matters of consequence. The Yankees told us 
many times they could not insult them 
enough to make them fight. Here is a case 
in point. 

Miss Moodie is a relative of Mr. Molyneux, 
the British ^consul, and a few days after the 
occupation of Savannah, the housekeeper, who 
was left in charge of the Molyneux house, 
came to her with a piteous tale. 

"Oh, mem," she said, "the Yankees is in 
the house, and they're the most accomplished 
thaves and robbers that iver ware, an' they've 
slapped me poor son's jaws, an' I daren't open 
me mouth." 

She then gave an account of such whole- 
sale plundering that Miss Moodie and her 
sister went to the house of which General 
Howard had taken possession. The British 
flag, which had been flying from a staff erected 
in the yard, had been torn down and spread 
on the floor as a rug, the Yankees wiping 
their feet on it as they went in and out while 
the Yankee flag occupied its place. 

General Howard received the two ladies 
with great politeness, expressed surprise and 
annoyance at the plundering, and assured 
them that he would so station guards that 
nothing more could be taken. 

In a few days the housekeeper came again to 
say that the stealing was as bad as ever. "The 
wine closet," she said, ''was nailed up and a 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 1 89 

guard stationed in front of it, but when wine 
was wanted the nails were drawn, as much 
was taken as was desired, then the farce of 
nailing up gone over again." 

Miss Moodie made another visit, and this 
time Nelly went with her. General Howard 
was out, so they did not see him. 

Many more articles disappeared. In the 
scullery the marble basin was cracked and 
broken, and the floor chipped as if wood had 
been split upon it, and the china closet was 
empty. Indeed, General Barry, who suc- 
ceeded General Howard, complained that 
not enough china could be found to set a 
decent table. 

After General Howard left, and when Gen- 
eral Barry's reign was only twenty-four hours 
old, Nelly and Miss Moodie went again to the 
house. General Barry appeared, and Miss 
Moodie asked for the key of the particular 
room. The general regretted that he could 
not give it to her as the man who had it was 
out. 

*'It does not make any difference," she 
said, *'I have a locksmith with me and will 
have the lock removed." 

Finally the key was produced and attended 
by the general, they went upstairs. He put 
the key in the lock, but it would not turn. 

The locksmith being called for, the key 
did its duty and the party entered. It was 



i9< 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



a room used only for packing clothing, house- 
linen, etc., and was lined with wardrobes. 
Miss Moodie opened one, but it was empty. 

"Nothing in here," she said, and opened 
another. <' Nothing in here, either !" They 
were all empty. Then turning to the gene- 
ral she continued, "what has become of the 
contents of these shelves, sir ?" 

" I assure you they were empty when we 
came. Madam," he replied. 

"That is singular," said Miss Moodie 
quietly, "for I know that they were full when 
your army entered the city." 

There was literally nothing to be saved so 
they came away. Not long afterwards Miss 
Moodie and Nelly went to the house of Mr. 
Green, a British resident, where General 
Sherman had quarters. Mrs. Randolph's 
cotton had been taken and she wished to 
ask Mr. Green if it were possible to take any 
steps toward recovering it. They were in the 
parlor when Mr. Green entered closely fol- 
lowed by General Sherman. 

** There are some ladies in the parlor," 
said the former. 

*'Not to see me; not to see me, I hope," 
said Sherman roughly. 

**Do you wish to be introduced to General 
Sherman ?" asked Mr. Green in an undertone 
of Miss Moodie. 

**Not for the world," she replied in a 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 191 

distinct voice. "I have no wish to make his 
acquaintance ; my business is private and en- 
tirely with you, Mr. Green, entirely with 
you." 

Sherman walked to the piano, looked at 
some music and then left the room. 

When Miss Moodie had concluded her con- 
versation with Mr. Green, he ask them up- 
stairs to look at a fine picture, and they 
passed the open doors of some beautifully 
furnished rooms. 

"Those apartments are occupied by Gen- 
eral Sherman," said Mr. Green to Nelly, who 
must have looked her disgust, for he con- 
tinued as they passed a door through which 
a handsome bed was visible, **Don't you 
want him to rest comfortably ?' ' 

"No, indeed, I do not 1" she exclaimed. "I 
wish a thousand papers of pins were stuck in 
that bed and that he was strapped down on 
them." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

IN again turning to Janet's diary I find the 
following records. 

Saturday, Dec. 31st. **The city authori- 
ties have seen fit to declare the city once 
more in the Union." 

Sunday, Jan. ist, 1865. *'Mr. Coly has 



192 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

returned, and to-day conducted the services in 
Christ Church, which was filled with women 
only ; a sorrowfully suggestive fact. I was 
told that a Yankee chaplain offered his assist- 
ance to the Rev. Mr. Axon, pastor of the 
Independent Presbyterian church, but the 
offer was coldly declined with the words : *Sir, 
my people need comfort, and that you can- 
not give.* 

" While we were at church General Bar- 
num again took Mrs. Randolph's carriage. 
We were told that the flag of truce boat will 
leave soon, and that those who wished to 
enter the Confederate lines must register 
their names. At Mrs. Belton's request 
I have registered hers.'* 

Monday, Jan. 2d. ** Nelly and another lady 
went to the Mayor's office to-day to ask for an 
order for wood. They went to the Exchange 
and, while waiting there to have the order 
made out, heard that the prisoners we had 
fed were confined in a warehouse on the bay. 
They went to see the poor fellows and found 
them destitute, so we have spent the after- 
noon collecting clothes for them." 

Tuesday, Jan. 3d. "To-day we carried large 
bundles of clothing to the prisoners. They 
are dreadfully crowded, not having room to 
lie down, nor even for many to sit down at a 
time. They were very thankful to get the 
clothes, though some of the garments were 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



193 



the oldest looking things imaginable, old 
dress coats and cloaks that must have been 
made when Adam was a little boy, pea jack- 
ets and even some pairs of trousers made of 
carpet which had been cut up for that purpose. 
To one man was given a Robin Hood suit of 
green which Mary Randolph's brother, now in 
Virginia, had worn to a fancy ball. To 
another, a boating suit, and so on. They fear 
the perishing climate they are going to, and 
are glad of anything in the way of clothing. 
We gave them a lot of gutta-percha buttons 
from which they can make rings and pins, but 
we were not allowed to give them tools, not 
even a bit of hoop skirt steel, of which they 
could make Httle saws." 

Wednesday, Jan. 4th. "Nelly went again 
to the prisoners. They still need clothing 
and, unfortunately, food also, but this last want 
we are totally unable to supply." 

Thursday, Jan. 5th. "Went to General 
Easton to-day to see about Mrs. Belton's 
going through the lines. He was quite civil 
and gave me Captain Audenried's address, so 
that I will be able to send letters home." 

Friday, Jan. 6th. "Reached Captain 
Audenried's office five minutes too late to send 
my letters, and was bitterly disappointed. 

"We have made a discovery that has pro- 
voked us not a little. For two or three nights 
Miss Moodie has heard a tapping in the yard, 



194 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



as if some one was picking with an instru- 
ment on bricks. Suspecting that the Yankees 
might be after the wine, which is in the wine- 
vault near the carriage house, its exterior was 
examined but was found in apparent good 
order. Last night a terrible row was heard 
going on in the servants' rooms over the sta- 
ble, and Mary went downstairs to see what 
was the matter. She was met by Robert, a 
negro boy, who had belonged to her, dressed 
in Yankee uniform and half intoxicated. She 
ordered him from the yard, but he refused 
to go, saying it was as much his as hers. 
Nelly and Miss Moodie went to General Bar- 
num to request that the row be stopped, and 
Captain Wilson came back with them. Going 
up to Robert he said : 

" *Do you consider yourself a free man } ' 

**Yes, Suh,' replied the boy, straightening 
up and tossing his head, 'I'sefreeas a jay- 
bud.' 

*' 'Then walk out of this yard, and don't pre- 
sume to set your foot in it again,' said the 
officer, and Robert retired with a very crest- 
fallen air. 

" After Captain Wilson left, the row began 
again, and Lieutenant Wright was sent for. 
Kelly, the guard, was drunk and noisy, and 
fearing that the officer would find him down- 
stairs, where he knew he had no business, he 
started upstairs to hide, but was horrified 



IN AXD OUT OF THE LINES. 195 

when he met Lieutenant Wright going down. 
The officer drew his sword with which he beat 
Kelly well, and instantly he became submis- 
sive, and in attempting to run, fell and rolled 
to the bottom of the stairs, 

"To-day we discovered that the vault has 
been entered through the side next to the car- 
riage house. An opening had been made 
through the brick wall and iron lining, large 
enough for a man to pass through, and every 
particle of wine has been stolen. The hole 
was concealed by a quantity of cottonseed 
that was piled over it, and it was on this stolen 
wine that Kelly and Robert had got drunk." 

Saturday, Jan. 7th. "Finished all arrange- 
ments for Mrs. Belton's departure, and 
Nelly is sending out a trunk full of things by 
her. She asked Lieutenant Wright the price 
of boots and other articles for gentle- 
men, and he laughed when he said he knew 
that she wanted them for her husband, and 
offered to buy them for her. Nelly gave him 
the money, and he has actually bought the 
things, which are now among Mrs. Belton's 
baggage and ready to start, Nelly packing the 
trunk alone, so I could swear I saw nothing 
contraband in it. Lieutenant Wright approved 
it, though he knew as well as we that the things 
he had bought were among the baggage, and 
were contraband. He is really kind-hearted." 

Saturday, Jan. 21st. "Mrs Belton has 



196 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

gone and I have heard of the safe arrival of 
herself and baggage at Charleston. 

'* In the past ten days I have suffered much 
through the illness and death of a dear little 
friend. At the funeral, as the broken-hearted 
mother and Nelly, upon whose arm she leant, 
were entering the gate of the railing encir- 
cling the vault, a Yankee endeavored to push 
them aside in order to enter the gate first. 
Nelly turned on him and thrust him back, but 
he pressed forward again. 

" *I will call the police,' said Nelly sternly ; 
then he sprang over the railing and, with as 
many of his companions as could crowd into the 
narrow space between the vault and the railing, 
stared with cruel curiosity into the open door 
and upon the casket. 

**Our cemetery is desecrated with their forti- 
fications. The Yankees have broken open 
the doors of vaults and, in one instance that I 
know of, the coffin of a lady was opened and 
across and chain stolen from her body. Surely 
such men are not human." 

Jan. 22d. " The Confederate lieutenant, 
who has been with us, has gone to prison. 
Poor fellow, he was so grateful to us. 

** Mary has got back her carriage, but not 
in time to save Miss Moodie from a very dis- 
agreeable adventure. General Barnum would 
not give up the carriage, and, as Miss Moodie 
one day had a pressing need for one, she bor- 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. tgj 

rowed a very handsome carriage from a friend, 
one horse from a physician, and hired another 
from the servant who was to drive her. When 
she returned, she ordered the driver to take 
the carriage back to the owner, but he mis- 
understood her and put it in our yard. 

** General Barnum's grooms reported the 
fact to him and he at once took possession of 
the vehicle, having it put in the stable belong- 
ing to a lady who lives quite near us. As 
soon as Miss Moodie learned what had been 
done, she requested General Barnum to return 
the carriage, but he paid no attention to her 
demands. She then procured the same 
driver and horses that she had had before 
and, going to the stable, ordered her driver 
to draw the carriage out. 

"Barnum's orderly and grooms were very 
impertinent, and made dreadful threats of 
what they would do to the driver if he 
touched it. This quite intimidated the man, 
but Miss Moodie told him that she would take 
the consequences, be they what they might, 
and the carriage was drawn out into the yard. 
Miss Moodie then took her seat, and the 
driver harnessed the horses to it, but when all 
was ready, it was found that the cushions 
were missing. The orderly, in a fury, 
refused to tell anything about them, where- 
upon Miss Moodie drove to General Barnum's 
office and asked if they were there. 



198 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

"The general's office] is just opposite our 
house. Miss Moodie drove up to the door and 
sat in the carriage for more than an hour, and 
what she was waiting for we could not imag- 
ine, though she told us afterward that she 
sent message after message to General Bar- 
num with no effect, but that he, finding she 
would not go away, finally came to the car- 
riage himself ; then she told him she intended 
to sit there until the cushions were restored. 
He was very angry and tried to make her go 
away, but this she absolutely refused to do. 
At last she wore out his patience; the cush- 
ions were brought and she drove off in tri- 
umph. 

"Forces tried to cross the river yesterday, 
but could not on account of the heavy rains. 
These people have the most absurd ideas of 
flooding rice fields, they thinking the plant- 
ers have unlimited control of water and can 
flood to any depth. They believe the high 
water, which is giving them so much trouble, 
is the work of Confederates, also that the rice 
dams have been cut, and they talk about cre- 
vasses as if the Savannah were the Missis- 
sippi." 

Wednesday, Jan. 25 th. *'A Yankee major 
came to-day and insisted on buying St. Cath- 
arine's island from Nelly. Nellie has no 
more interest in that island than the man in 
the moon has, but he was so eager for it that 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. I99 

she could not resist the temptation of giving 
him as m.any little feminine stabs as were in 
her power. Finally she told him she would 
let no Yankee have the island at any price; 
still he earnestly entreated her to change the 
decision, and she, getting tired of the scene, 
sent him off in a blue rage with the informa- 
tion that St. Catharine's belonged no more 
to her than it did to him." 

Friday, Jan. 27th. "The corps to which 
Lieutenant Wright belongs left to-day. On 
leaving he kissed the baby, whereat Nelly 
was very indignant and has nearly scrubbed 
the poor little mortal's face off. 

'*When the Third Brigade was drawn up in 
front of our windows, General Barnum rode 
across from his quarters and, placing himself 
directly under the window, delivered an address 
to his men. I did not catch the first sentence, 
but he charged them *as patriots, to write their 
names indeUbly upon the soil of South Caro- 
lina.' He, however, counselled them to mod- 
eration — I should liked to have asked what 
Yankee moderation means — and at the close 
he said : ^*I propose three long, loud and 
hearty cheers for Savannah.' 

**They were given with vim. I don't know 
what he would have said could he have heard 
the groans in our parlor when the three 
cheers — for *The coming campaign' — rent the 
air. 



200 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

''Yesterday I was much gratified to learn 
that Major Sinclair, General Barnum's assist- 
ant provost marshal, had been returned in 
disgrace to his regiment for rudeness to a 
woman. Lieutenant Wright amused us with 
his account of the occurrence, thus showing 
he has owed him no good will since the first 
day they came in, when Major Sinclair broke 
open our gate, stole Mary's turkeys and 
charged me with having resisted his author- 
ity. Lieutenant Wright was very angry at 
the time, remarking that the man was no gen- 
tleman. 

"The Lieutenant, on leaving, gave us his 
address: 

Lieutenant Wm. Wright, 

Bath, Steuben Co., N.Y. 
— promising that if any of our relatives were 
taken prisoner during the coming campaign 
he would be kind to them if it were in his 
power." 

Saturday, Jan. 29th. "Last night was the 
most awful one of my life, and I pray that I may 
never see such another. At ten o'clock 
there was a cry of fire, but that cry was so fre- 
quent we paid no attention to it. At a 
quarter to twelve Nelly and I were awakened 
by the explosion of a shell. Then came a 
dozen reports in quick succession, so loud and 
so near they seemed to be in the yard. The 
gas, which had been burning brightly, was 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 20I 

put out by the shock, and we could hear the 
jarring of the gas and water pipes with every 
explosion. We sprang from our beds and, 
looking out of the window, found the fire rag- 
ing in West Broad Street. Nelly said the 
old Navy magazine must be on fire. The 
bursting of the shells now became terrific, 
pieces of them falling all around our house, 
and we could hear them striking the houses 
around us. 

''Calling to an officer, who was passing, I 
asked him if he thought we were in danger. 

" *I cannot tell, madam,' he repUed. 'The 
engines cannot be approached on account of 
the shells, and it will depend entirely upon 
the direction the wind takes.* 

"Of course this remark made us very anx- 
ious. Nelly and Mary dressed the children, 
while Miss Moodie and I collected their 
clothing and some valuables; then we went 
over to Captain Maston, assistant provost, and 
asked him if in case we had to move, 
could he help us. He assured us that he could 
and would, so I took my stand to watch 
the progress of the fire. For three hours it 
had been steadily advancing with nothing to 
arrest it. The heavens were as light as day, 
while the bursting shells sent up jets of 
smoke and flame high above the burning 
houses. The sight itself was grand beyond 
description. Not a sound could be heard in 



202 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

the street below. The few awestricken peo- 
ple, who were seeking safety in flight, crept 
silently along as close to the walls as possi- 
ble, and then sped like lightning across the 
street. 

"Mr. B came to ask after us, and as 

he crossed the street a large piece of shell 
fell almost at his feet. Two soldiers came up 
the steps, and when I asked who they were, 
one replied : 

*"Two Confederates, who want a place of 
safety for themselves and budgets; the hos- 
pital is on fire, and the sick are being 
moved.' 

** I had hardly opened the door when sev- 
eral more of the sick arrived. They spread 
their blankets on the parlor floor and very 
composedly went to sleep. Suddenly the 
wind changed and the flames appeared rush- 
ing towards us, so Miss Moodie and I went 
to Captain Maston and he very kindly sent 
three men to help us. 

"Nelly had bought a pair of cavalry boots 
to send out to Mr. Annandale and these I 
tied together, filled them with silver and 
hung them around my neck, my arms being 
full of bundles. We loaded the men with 
valuables, then Miss Moodie and I went with 
them to the house of a physician far enough 
away, we thought, to be safe from the fire. 
We had numerous offers of assistance from 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 20$ 

persons on the way, but we rejected them, 
knowing that in this way much steahng would 
be done. Our three Yankees, however, be- 
haved well and were faithful to their trust. 

*'When we reached the doctor's house, he 
was out, and we had to pound on the door a 
long time before we could wake up his wife. 
She at length came downstairs, but could 
not open the door, as the key was not to be 
found, and the doctor was away with his 
latch key. She opened the drawing-room 
window, how^ever, and I slung the boots, full 
of silver as they were, into the room, Miss 
Moodie and the men tossing their bundles in 
after. Many persons did not know of the fire 
and explosions until next morning, having slept 
through it all as the doctor's wife had done. 

"It was five o'clock when we reached 
home, and the fire seemed to be decreasing. 
It had spread beyond the range of the shells 
and the engines were at work. Only an 
occasional shell now exploded, and by half- 
past five they ceased. For five long hours 
this bombardment, if I may so call it, con- 
tinued. The loss of life must be terrible. 

"The negroes were scared out of their wits. 
Early, during the bursting of the shells, I 
was on the front steps and I asked a negro 
who was passing, if he thought our house 
in danger. 

***0h, no, ma'am,' said he, 'I don't tink 



204 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

you need be scare/ In a second a piece of 
shell fell near by, and another negro scudding 
along called out. 

" *Run fur your life, Jim !' 

" My friend, who the moment before had 
told me not to be scare, turned to me" and said : 

** * I mek mistek, missis. I tink you berry 
danjus,' and away he went down the street. 

**At first nothing could convince the 
negroes that it was not the Confederates 
shelling the town. Daphne, Mary's cook, 
came wringing her hands and crying: * My 
God, misstis, marster come shell we all.' 

*'0n the steps we found two jewelry cases 
open and empty, probably stolen from some 
burning house." 

Sunday, Jan. 30th. "One hundred and 
twenty-five houses were destroyed but no 
one was burnt but a poor little negro baby." 

February 15th. *'Some of the women try 
the tragic style, i.e., receive the enemy with 
folded arms, heads thrown back, and suffer 
from heroics generally. It is very foolish, for 
the Yankees only laugh ; I think the best 
way is to treat them with contemptuous 
indifference. That stings. 

** To-day a little negro amused herself by 
jumping up and down under my window, and 
singing at the top of her voice : 

" ' AH de rebel gone to h — 
Now Par Sherman come.' 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



205 



** The little imp's antics were so funny, I 
could not help laughing. 

"Sherman uses the park as a camp, and the 
negroes say : 

'* *Buckra wouldn't let nigger go een de 
park. Noiv nigger go and Buckra can't. 
Couldn't git a glass o' water for he'sef, 
now hab to go to de pump.' 

"This last has been told me, for I have 
seen nothing of the kind. Our servants are 
perfectly respectful. 

*' I am told that Sherman says : * These 

Savannah women are d sulky, but they'll 

get over that before I'm done with them.' If 
by sulkiness he means contempt for himself 
and his robber crew, he will find that that is 
one of the things he cannot change. 

" I have forgotten to record an instance in 
which General Howard forgot his usual bland- 
ness. It is as follows : 

** A lady was passing the general's office 
when, noticing the United States flag 
stretched above the sidewalk, she stepped 
down into the sand to avoid passing under it. 
The guard called to her to walk under th j 
flag but she refused to obey him, so he took 
her to the general. 

" *Madam,' said he, * I understand that 
you refused to pass under my flag. Did 
you ? * 

** * I did,' she replied quietly. * Am I not 



2o6 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

at liberty to walk in the sand if I prefer it to 
the sidewalk ? ' 

"* Yes,' said he excitedly; *but you inten- 
tionally avoided my flag. I will make you 
walk under it.' 

"* You ^^«;^^^ make me!' she replied ex- 
citedly. ' You may have me carried under 
it, but then it will be your act — not mine.* 

" This answer irritated him not a little, 
and he said angrily: *I will have you arrested 
and sent to prison.' 

** She looked at him coolly, then replied : 
* Send me to prison if you will, I know you 
have the power, — if not the right, — and see 
if you can shake my resolution,' 

*' * Well,* he said, ' I will have the flag 
hung in front of your door, so that you can- 
not get out without walking under it.* 

*' * Then I will stay at home, and send the 
servants,' she answered. * They will not 
mind.' 

** She was finally released. Poor man ! I 
daresay he thought himself dignified when 
he was only spiteful." 

Saturday, Feb. 1 8th. ** Mary has been, and 
still is, very ill. We fear her poor little two 
days' old baby will not live. There was great 
difficulty in obtaining a permit for the doctor 
to visit her at night.'* 

Monday, Feb. 20th. "To-day a Yankee 
came to ask if the owner of this house lived in 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 207 

it, and I think he was well satisfied of the fact 
before he left. These people go to houses that 
have been left by the owners in charge of 
housekeepers or other responsible persons, 
and take possession on the ground that they 
are abandoned property." 

Tuesday, Feb. 21st. *' Nelly and I regis- 
tered our names to-day, for we can get no 
letters without a ticket. The officers only 
asked what relatives we had in the Confeder- 
ate army. Here is a copy of my ticket or 
whatever it may be called. 

"'Office Provost Marshal. 

" 'Savannah, Ga., Feb. 21, 1865. 

Miss J. W. Henry 

Is registered at this office 

Residence, Cor. S. Broad and Barnard 

Occupation, 

Oath of Allegiance, Not Taken 

" 'S. M. Cheeseboro, 
" ^ist Lieut, d- Asst. Provost Marshal." 

February 28th. **A Yankee officer came 
to-day to ask the price of Mary's carriage. 
He said he had 'peeped at it through a crack!* 
Characteristic, certainly." 

March 3d. ** At last we have a letter 
from Mr. Annandale. It is a month old, but 
as it is the first and only one we have had 
from the Confederate lines, we value it highly. 
The destruction of the flag of truce letters is a 



2o8 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

most disgraceful piece of cruelty. We have 
been to the office again and again to ask, 
even to beg, for our letters, and were rudely 
told that there were letters for us, but that the 
clerk was busy and we must call again. 

*'The next day the same answer was given, 
and finally Captain Baker said, * These con- 
founded women bother the life out of me and 
I've no time to waste on their nonsense. 
Tell them their letters are burnt and not to 
bother me any more !' " 

March 12th. ^'Meningitis has become epi- 
demic and many of the children of our 
friends have died of it. It is thought to be 
occasioned by the filth left by Sherman's 
army. For ten days a dead horse lay with 
his head on our pavement, and the litter from 
the stable in our yard, which was occu- 
pied by General Barnum's horses, was never 
removed but was piled against the wall till it 
reached the windows of the servants' rooms 
over the stable. The lanes were nailed up 
at either end and used as horse lots while 
Sherman was here, and when he left they 
were in a shocking condition, remaining so at 
present for the citizens have neither money 
nor strength, — being mostly women, — to 
have them cleaned. One lady said to a Yan- 
kee that if *the town was not cleaned all the 
people would die in the summer.* 

** * We'll be away long before then/ said 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



209 



he. *Only niggers and rebel women will be 
left, and it doesn't matter what becomes of 
them.' " 

CHAPTER XX. 

MARCH 1 3th. *' There is on this street, 
quite near us, a house left vacant by 
the death of its owner, a wonderfully 
particular maiden lady, about seventy years 
of age. I do not know who was left in 
charge of the property, but it is now occu- 
pied by Yankee officers, and the canary-col- 
ored, satin damask parlor chairs, which were 
always carefully covered with linen, now 
shine out in all their splendor under the trees 
in the middle of the street. There they stay 
through sun and rain. 

** I must tell an incident in connection 
with this house, of which Janet makes no 
mention in her journal, although I have often 
heard her speak of it to Nelly. 

"About the middle of April, Nelly and Janet 
were walking in the street one rainy day, and 
they met a procession of women, the wives 
and daughters of the Senators who had gone 
to Charleston to see Major Anderson hoist 
the United States flag over Fort Sumter. 
Some mistake about conveyances must have 
occurred, for they had to walk through the 
rain, from the vessel to the hotel. Their 



2IO IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

appearance was funny in the extreme, for they 
were arrayed in their Sunday-go-to-meetings, 
and the rain was damaging their finery and, 
consequently, their tempers. 

*'As the procession passed Nelly, one of the 
women elevated her already sufficiently 
elevated skirt, thereby showing a box ankle 
and a foot that looked as if it had a hinge in 
the middle, — the heel coming down hard first 
and the toe following with a curious kind of 
flap. 

**'0w,' cried she, *I thought Charleston was 
narsty, but of all narsty places Savannah is 
the narstiest!' 

^'Several others expressed their dissatisfac- 
tion in terms quite as audible and as well bred 
as those used by the lady with the represen- 
tative pedestal. The next day an ambulance 
load of these people was seen to enter the 
house of the canary colored chairs, and the 
lady who lives next door says she heard voices 
animatedly discussing the value of things. 
One voice a little higher and shriller than the 
others, cried out : *Betty Blair, you take the 
dish and let me have the book.' 

*'Betty apparently did not approve of this 
arrangement, for the same voice exclaimed ; 
'Betty Blair, I tell you one is as good as the 
other !* 

"Betty must still have proved obdurate, for 
the voice again said : *Well, Betty, if you 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 2 11 

must have the book, take it !' And there was 
peace." 

March 15th. "Mary and her baby are still 
ill, and to-day little Jean is restless. I fear 
this awful meningitis." 

Tuesday, March 21st. "Jean has been 
very ill ; it was meningitis, but she slept all 
last night and the doctor found her so much 
better this morning that he thinks the disease 
controlled, if not quite gone. 

*'A negro soldier struck one of my little 
cousins with a stone and but for timely inter- 
ference, would have cut him with a knife. 
Colonel York, the provost marshal, said he 
would punish the offender if identified, — a 
useless speech, since he took no steps toward 
identification, and he perfectly well knew 
how impossible it was for the child's mother 
to move in the matter. 

*'The other day Colonel York was holding 
forth, with the contumacy of the rebel women 
as his text, and he closed his discourse, with 
the following statement : 

*'I was in the army that captured Vicksburg 
and although the women of that town had 
been compelled to subsist upon mule meat 
and mouldy pease, they were as determinedly 
rebellious as ever. 'Yes, just as much as ever 
madam ! They even cast garbage upon me 
as I rode through the streets. Garbage^ 
madam X 



212 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

"He did not mean to be funny but he was, 
and he did so redden and puff at the recollec- 
tion of the insult, and kept on muttering 'gar- 
bage' in such an absurd way that Nelly and I, 
after an ineffective attempt to control our- 
selves, burst out laughing. 

"He was furious, and when we were begin- 
ning to get ourselves in hand, set us off again 
with the remark that *we might find it amus- 
ing to have garbage cast upon a gentleman's 
head, but he did not!' He then hastily 
left. 

"Nelly asked me what garbage really was. 
I did not know but had a general idea that it 
was something very abominable. I have look- 
ed in Webster; he says, 'Garbage is the refuse 
animal and vegetable matter from a kitchen.' 
No wonder poor Colonel York was dis- 
gusted. 

'*Last night Nelly's cow was stolen, so this 
morning she went to the chief of police, Cap- 
tain Morehead, and stated the case. Colonel 
York happened to be present and they both 
promised to do what they could for her. At 
one o'clock an officer called for her to iden- 
tify the cow, and on going to the Police Office 
found only her unfortunate cow's hide. Two 
of the thieves — negroes — were caught, and 
the police are in search of the third. To- 
morrow Nelly goes to have the case settled." 

Wednesday, March 22d. "The chief of 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



213 



police having secured the thieves, they con- 
fessed and were sentenced to three months' 
imprisonment, and to pay the full value of the 
property. The cow was valued at one hun- 
dred dollars. The judge awarded seventy-five 
dollars to Nelly. The court reserving the 
remaining twenty-five. 

*'Nelly received forty-five dollars and is 
promised the rest. I think she is lucky to 
get anything." 

Monday, March 27th. **The wives of all 
Confederate officers are ordered to leave 
Savannah. The order is verbal, and is said 
to come from Stanton." 

March 28th. *'This morning while it 
rained, some one knocked at the door, and as 
Nelly opened it a great big Yankee, with his 
hat pulled over his face, and tightly buttoned 
up in a huge overcoat, sprang in. She 
stepped back in a startled surprise. With- 
out removing his hat, he said roughly : ' You 
are ordered to leave on the flag of truce boat 
on Thursday.' 

" ' But this is Tuesday, ' she replied, ' and 
you cannot expect me to be ready on such 
short notice.' 

" * If you are not, it will be the worse for 
you ! ' he growled. 

" By this time Nelly had got her wits 
about her and remembering that she was the 
wife of a private felt perfectly secure. 



214 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



'* * I don't know you,' she said, ' and as 
you have brought no written order I shall 
pay no attention to what you have said. I 
daresay you are a private, trying to frighten 
me ; but you will not succeed, and if you 
don't go away, I will send for the police.' 

" ' I am an officer,' he angrily exclaimed. 
* Don't you see my sword ?' 

" * I see that you wear a sword, but that is 
no proof that you are an officer. Swords 
are portable property,' answered Nelly. 

'* He tore open his coat and pointing to 
his straps said : * Don't you see I am a lieu- 
tenant } * 

*' * I see that you have on shoulder straps, 
but what does that signify } You may be or 
you may not be an officer. It is nothing to 
me. I am the wife of a private, and the order 
you profess to have does not concern me.' 

*' Several negroes had come up from the 
basement and were listening to the conver- 
sation. One girl, the only saucy one of the 
number, had approached quite near. Nelly 
looked at her and then at the Yankee. 

** 'Do you wish to see the negroes ? 'she asked. 

'* * No ! ' he mumbled. 

*** Because,' Nelly continued, * if you did, 
I was going to say you might go into the 
kitchen with them, and the next time you 
come it will be well for you to knock at the 
gate, as their visitors always come there.* 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



215 



" That Yankee looked as if he wanted to 
commit murder, and he cursed the negroes. 

'* * You see,' she went on, turning to them, 
* he does not wish to see you.' 

" They went downstairs and then Nelly 
said to the Yankee, * I think you had better 
go, too.' 

" ' I tell you,' he replied angrily, * you 
shall go on Thursday, and what's more 
there's another woman here, a rebel officer's 
wife, that shall go too ! See if I'm not 
right !' Down the front steps he stalked into 
the street. Nelly is safe, but poor Mary, 
who is still so ill that she has not left her bed 
since the birth of her infant, what will they 
do to her .'' Nelly is going to see General 
Grover about it this afternoon." 

March 29th. "Mary is to be allowed to stay 
for a week longer. Grover would not take 
Nelly's or ]\Iiss Moodie's word of honor that 
she was too ill to be moved, but sent a Yan- 
kee surgeon to see for himself. The man 
came into her room and must needs feel her 
pulse, when one glance at her deathlike face 
could not fail to tell him that she was a des- 
perately il] woman, and to w^hom the excite- 
ment of seeing a stranger, and in that 
detested uniform, must be most danger- 
ous." 

Thursday, March 30th. "The flag of 
truce boat with the first instalment of offi- 



2l6 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

cers* wives left to-day, and I went down to 
see them off." 

Friday, March 31st. *'The wine the Yan- 
kees stole from the vault belonged to Mary 
Randolph's brother. Fortunately Nelly had 
concealed hers in the house, and as she is 
very hard pushed for money, has been selling 
it for fifteen dollars a bottle. The wine is 
very old and cannot be replaced, but we 
must have bread. 

" The other day a boyish looking Yankee, 
who said his name was Glidden, and that he 
came from Boston, was brought here by a 
person we thought responsible, for the pur- 
pose of buying some of the wine. Nelly 
told him the price per bottle and the date of 
importation, and he very properly asked to 
taste it ; so she had a bottle and glass brought. 
Just then she was called from the room and 
had to be absent some time. When she re- 
turned Mr. Glidden said he would let hex 
know the next day how much wine he 
wanted, and then took his leave, but on ex- 
amining the bottle it was found to be empty. 
We were surprised, but concluded Mr. Glid- 
den meant to include it in the purchase to 
be made the next day. 

" We were mistaken, however, for he not 
only declined to buy the wine, but told Nelly 
that such wine as that could be bought in 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



217 



Boston for a dollar and a half a gallon. 
Nelly says she told him that she would be 
very much afraid to drink, or even to cook 
with wine at that price as it would have to 
be made of logwood, sugar and acids. He 
smiled benignly upon her ignorance and said 
there was a difference between Boston and 
Savannah ; illustrating the difference by not 
paying for the fifteen dollars' worth he had 
made away with, although he had been told 
that the wine was to be sold to buy bread." 

April 6th. *'The second flag of truce 
boat left to-day with the remaining families 
of the Confederate officers." 

April 14th. "Extras to-day give a full 
account of Lee's surrender to Grant. I can- 
not believe it." 

Wednesday, April 19th. "The reports of 
Lee's surrender and of Lincoln's assassination 
are confirmed. Surely the ways of God are 
mysterious ! " 

Friday, April 2 1 st. " I went yesterday 
on the boat to Sister's Ferry with the officers' 
families who were ordered out. Three weeks 
ago when the first boat left, General Grover 
gave me a pass but I did not use it, because 
it was not until yesterday that the ladies 
with whom I wished to go were ordered 
out. 

"At 12 o'clock we went on board the 



2lS IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

Emilie, commanded by Captain Baker. Gen- 
eral Washburn and a doctor being the other 
officers on board. One hundred and ten of 
Lee's men accompanied us, bound for their 
homes in Georgia and Alabama. Not half 
an hour after we left the wharf, I was told 
that Commodore Tattnall's family had been 
ordered off the boat for having contraband 
articles in their trunks. I knew five of the 
families on the Emilie, not one of which 
wished to leave Savannah, but went because 
they were threatened with imprisonment 
if they did not obey the order. The boat 
lay in the river all night and at ten o'clock 
the next day we reached the ferry. 

** No words can describe my feelings at 
the sight of the pickets in gray on the bluff. 
The soldiers were landed first, then the 
families. Many of our friends met us, and I 
heard from them that all was well at home. 
We communicated to our men the sad news 
of General Lee's surrender. They were 
greatly astonished to hear of Lincoln's assassi- 
nation. After two or three hours' conversa- 
tion with our gallant and beloved soldiers, we 
had to bid them good-by. 

**This order, sending out the officers' 
families, is brutal, but I do not hold the 
officers in command here responsible for it. 
They have, so far as I can learn, tried to soften 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 219 

the hardships as much as lay in their power, 
especially Captain Baker, who was very civil 
to us. 

*' The cause of the arrest of Mrs. Tattnall 
was the discovery of a tiny can of powder in 
the trunk belonging to a boy, a relative of 
hers, but which, unfortunately by a mistake, 
had been marked with her name. I fear it 
will be an awkward business, for although 
the ounce or two of powder could not have 
done the Confederacy much good, it may 
afford a pretext for the Yankees to make 
another display of their amiable peculiari- 
ties." 

Sunday, April 23d. "I went to Colonel 
York's office at seven o'clock to ask if the 
doctor would be allowed to attend Mary, 
whose illness has increased. The written 
permission was given me. Yesterday an 
order was published, forbidding any one who 
would not take the Amnesty Oath to get a 
letter from the post office. 

" To-day I was fortunate enough to obtain 
copies of the only] correspondence I have 
heard of in regard to the officers' wives. 

Mrs. J. W. A was ordered verablly like 

the rest of the women, but on the applica- 
tion of Mrs. Robert A to the general 

commanding at Hilton Head, she was re- 
prieved for a time by the following order : 



220 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

♦' *HEADqUARTERS, DEPARTMENT OF THE SoUTH. 

" 'Assistant Adjutant General's Office, 

" 'Hilton Head, S.C, March 30, 1865. 
" 'Brevet Maj.-Gen. C. Grover, 
'* 'Commandery District of Savannah. 

" 'Savannah. 
" '■General^ — The Major-General instructs me to say 

that Mrs. J. W. A. , now at Savannah, may be 

retained within our lines until the last of the wives of 
Confederate officers are sent out. 

" 'Very respectfully, 

" 'Your obedient servant, 

" 'W. L. M. Burger, A. A. G.' 



"On the next trip of the boat, a verbal order 
was brought, by a commissioned officer, which 
she refused to receive in person, so the follow- 
ing was then brought to her : 



*' 'Order No. i. 

" 'Provost Marshal's Office, 

" 'District of Savannah, 

" 'April 3, 1865. 

" 'Mrs. J. W. A. . 

^^ ^ Madam, — In accordance with orders from the 

Sec'ryof War, you will be in readiness to leave the city 

to go without our lines at 9 o'clock, a.m., the 6th inst. 

" 'Carriage for yourself and teams for your baggage 

will call for you at your residence. 

" 'By order of, 

'"Bt. Maj.-Gen'l. C. Grover. 

" 'RoBT. P. York, 
" 'Lt. Col. and Pro. Mar.' 



**Mrs. A showed the reprieve and 

received the two orders following : 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 22 1 

" 'Order No. 2. 

" 'Provost Marshal's Office, 

" 'District of Savannah, 

'"April 3d, 1865. 

" 'Mrs. A . 

" ''Madajn, — I have orders from the Secretary of War, 
and received through the proper channel, and as I have 
no notice from any one in regard to your case, I shall 
be compelled to execute these orders which I have. You 
will be ready to go at 9 a. m. next Thursday. If you 
are not^ you -will suffer the consequences of disobeying 
orders. 

" 'I am, madam, 

" 'Very respectfully, 

" 'RoBT. P. York, 
" 'Lt. Col. 75th N. Y. V. I. and 
*' 'Pro. Mar., Dist. of Savannah.' 



*'Mrs. A inquired what the underUned 

sentence meant, and was told it meant the 
County Jail. The next day she received the 
following, it having been telegraphed to Hil- 
ton Head that Mrs. A 'was a dangerous 

woman.' 



" 'Provost Marshal's Office, 

" 'District of Savannah, 

" 'April 4th, 1863. 
" 'The following has just been received at this office : 
" 'By telegraph from 

" 'Hilton Head, April 4th, 1865. 
" 'To Bt. Maj.-Gen. C. Grover. 

" 'The Gen'l Comdg. directs that Mrs. J. W. A 

be sent out of the lines at the first opportunity. 
" '[Signed] W. L. Burger, A.A.G. 

"'Resp't. by 

" 'Robert P. York, 

" 'Lt. Col. and Pro. Mar.' 



222 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

*'Mrs. A was sent out on the 6th of 

April." 

May loth. ^'Hundreds of Lee's men are 
in the city, and we find many friends among 
them. An order has been issued that Con- 
federate officers must take off their uni- 
forms." 

May 1 3th. "Commodore Tattnall arrived 
yesterday. He positively refused to take off 
his buttons, and I hear General Imboden has 
done the same. The order has been 
rescinded to-day and I can only suppose 
because even they felt ashamed to carry out 
this mean spite against brave and unfortunate 
men. We watched Commodore Tattnall pass 
a negro guard and were in fear lest that gal- 
lant gentleman would be insulted; but no, 
the negro, more decent than his white com- 
rades, saluted respectfully and remained 
motionless until the commodore had advanced 
some distance beyond him. 

** Yesterday we witnessed the arrest of 

B . Yes, one of our noble Confederates 

arrested by a common Yankee poHceman, and 
for what ? Because he had brass buttons on 
his coat ! This breaking of the parole given 
to our men would be a disgrace to any govern- 
ment but that of the Yankees ; they can stoop 
to any act. The meaner the better, so that 
the end is gained." 

Sunday, May 14th. "I feel sadly the want 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



223 



of a church. My own I cannot enter while 
our noble President is a fugitive, with a reward 
of a hundred thousand dollars offered for him, 
and our minister is compelled to pray for 
Andy Johnson, a drunken tailor! No other 
denomination has been so insulted. Nelly 
and I read the service and a sermon at 
home." 

May 1 8th. ** President Davis has been 
captured and passed through the city this 
morning on his way to Hilton Head. What 
is to be his fate, none can foresee. This 
afternoon Nelly went on business to Captain 
Starr, a quartermaster, who has his office in 
the Central Railroad Bank. When she had 
received the order which she had requested, 
he remarked : * You Savannah people are 
not very patriotic' 

** *I am not aware of any failure of duty in 
that respect,' Nelly replied. 

" ^You are not, are you ? Well, what do 
you say to the fact that Mrs. Davis' four 
months old baby had to go without its break- 
fast this morning because no milk could be 
had for it for love or money. I, myself, tried 
everywhere to get it for her.' 

" 'You tried probably, in your own name,' 
said Nelly. 

** *Yes, of course I did,' responded he. 

" 'Then,' said Nelly, 'you have furnished 
the best proof that this is a patriotic town. 



2 24 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

Voi^ tried in your own name. Had you used 
that of Mrs. Davis, there is not in Savannah 
a Southern woman who would not have felt 
honored by the application, provided, of 
course, that she was sure it was for Mrs. 
Davis.'" 

May 19th. *' Nelly has just been through 
a season of much tribulation, but I am forced 
to laugh whenever I think of it. The Yankees 
are now allowing citizens to collect rents. A 

certain Mrs. B came, while Nelly was at 

the dentist, to rent a store from her. The 
woman seemed so anxious that I sent her 
after Nelly, but in a short time she returned 
and said : I was to *gif her te toor key.' 

"*But I don't know where it is,* I said. 

*'*It is one beeg, yellow key, and it is in 
te leetle yellow pag hangking up in te yellow 
wardrope. Mrs. Annintel dolt me to dell you 
dat.' 

"Following her lucid directions, I found 
and gave her the key, which was a large brass 
one. When Nelly returned she told me that 

Mrs. B was to examine the premises, and 

if she wished to rent them, was to send a mes- 
sage to that effect on Saturday before one 
o'clock, and if no message came Nelly was to 
conclude that she did not want the store and 
was at liberty to make other arrangements. 

" No message was received, so on Saturday 
afternoon Nelly sent for the key, and having 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 225 

an application for the store that evening, 
rented it then and there. On the following 
week great was her surprise when she received 
a summons to appear before the Provost Court 
and answer for her conduct to Mrs. B . 

'' In fear and trembling she engaged a law- 
yer and obeyed the awful mandate. Mrs. 

B , her lawyer and a friend, who was to 

have had half of the store, were already there. 

Mrs. B 's lawyer made a high flown 

speech about the cruelty of wronging a poor 
widow, poor in the sense of spirit, not flesh, 
for she is as broad as she is long. He was 
subjected to so many interruptions from the 
said widow, about *te yellow key, in te yellow 
pag, hangking in te yellow wardrope,' that at 
length he said impatiently, 'Am I conducting 
this case, Madam, or are you.?' 

" 'Oh, it is you, Sir, it is you. Put I shoost 
vant to dell de shudge dat Mrs. Annintel dit 
say te yellow key vas in te leetle yellow pag, 
hangking in te yellow wardrope.* 

" 'You have already stated that fact several 
times, Madam,' said he; 'it is unnecessary that 
you should do it again. Please bear that in 
mind.' 

'* She bowed submissively and was silent. 
He continued his oration but as he paused a 
moment for breath, she broke in with : 

"'It vas Miss Hentrie, Mrs. Annintel's 
sister, vot gafe me te key. I delt her dat 



226 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

her sister saidt it vas a yellow key, in te lit- 
tle yellow pag, hangking — ' here she was in- 
terrupted by her indignant lawyer. 

" *I will abandon the case at once, Mrs. 
B ,' said he, ' if you are not silent !' 

" *Yes, sir, put — ' 

" * I insist upon perfect silence ! ' de- 
manded he. 

''Shortly poor Nelly was called up to 
tell her story. In the midst of her exami- 
nation, in walked the Mayor and city coun- 
cil. They came to be sworn in about some- 
thing and stood by while she, with an earth- 
swallow-me-up look upon her face, tried to 
hurry through with her story. 

" The proceedings were stopped, however, 
until the Judge had attended to the Mayor's 

business, and then Mrs. B 's friend was 

called as a witness. His hat was off, but when 
they were about to make him swear, he 
clapped it on his head. 

" 'Take off your hat, sir ! ' exclaimed the 
Judge, sternly. 

'''I nefer dush dat ven I schwears,' said 
the man eagerly, at the same time seizing the 
brim of his hat with both hands, and drag- 
ging it down over his ears. The lawyer then 
explained to the Judge that the Jews do not 
hold an oath binding when made with head 
uncovered, so the man was allowed to keep it 
on. 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 22/ 

" The decision was reserved for next day. 
The Judge saying that Nelly would see it in 
the morning paper. On the way home she 
asked her lawyer if she had told her story 
well. 

'"Not by any means,' was the reply. 
*You said exactly what you ought not to 
have said, and did not say what you should 
have said.' 

*' * Will the case go against me ? ' she 
asked. 

"'I think it will,' he replied. 

" ' Well it will be very hard if it does, after 
they had me up there before all those people 
and scared me nearly out of my wits. Did 
you know,' she continued, 'that Jews had to 
wear their hats when they swore ? ' 

** *Yes,' said he. * I remember one occasion 
when a Jew of the lower class was brought 
as a witness ; he removed his hat, and the 
plaintiff in great excitement, cried out : 
**Stop him ! stop him ! Make him put on 
his hat, or he'll swear to the biggest lie he 
can think of." ' 

" To our surprise, the morning paper 
announced the decision to be in Nelly's 
favor." 

Sunday, May 2ist. "A most amusing 
incident occurred in church to-day. Just 
after the 7> Deum had been sung, a Yankee 
officer in the pew next to the front got up 



228 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

and stalked out of the church. He made 
such a noise and came from such a conspicu- 
ous place that every eye in the congregation 
was upon him. His red head, chalk-white 
face, long spindly body and long arms, which 
he worked like the sails of a windmill, made 
him look exactly like the insect known to 
children as a Johnny-crook-horse. When 
service was over a friend told us that while 
standing on the steps when the Yankee came 
out, he heard him say to the sexton, *I have 
been insulted in this church. It's a con- 
founded rebel nest.' 

*'*Indeed!' said the sexton. * Well you 
knew it was not a Yankee church, why did 
you go in .? * 

***I am at liberty to go where I please,' 
he answered. * It was insult enough to have 
to sit by a rebel ; but to make it worse, one 
rebel woman handed a prayer-book to 
another, passing it directly in front of me. I 
couldn't stand that so have shown my sense 
of the insult by leaving the church ! ' 

*" I suppose it did not occur to you to 
look back at the door to see if the congrega- 
tion was dissolved in tears at your depart- 
ure ? * asked the sexton. The Yankee walked 
off without replying." 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 229 

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE last entry in Janet's journal was 
made on the 2 1 st of May. They packed 
up at that time, hoping to leave shortly, 
and the journal, down at the bottom of a 
Saratoga, was too much out of the way to be 
again used, but they could not leave for 
some weeks. 

Mary Randolph and Miss Moodie had gone 
North, hoping that the sea air would be of 
service to Mary, who was so ill that she had 
to be carried on a mattress to the boat. She 
gained strength slowly but steadily, and some 
weeks after her departure wrote to Nelly, 
asking her to get Dr. Randolph's sword from 
a friend who had carried it to Savannah. 

Nelly did not know what to do, for she 
could not trust a servant with such a thing, 
nor did she wish to carry it through the 
streets in the day time, and it was very certain 
she could not go alone for it in the evening. 
Still less could she permit a Confederate to 
go with her, for this would have been danger- 
ous to both. She was speaking of her per- 
plexities to two Confederates when they 
immediately asked to be allowed to go for it. 
One of them, a Texas Ranger, said he did 
not care about the Yankees, and if they tried 
to take the sword from him, he would have 



230 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

the pleasure of sticking at least one of them, 
and if they killed him, it would not matter 
much, for his people were all across the 
Mississippi, and no doubt thought he had al- 
ready " gone up." 

The other, a Virginian, was so shocked 
when Nelly proposed to go for it herself, that 
she was fain to give up the discussion in his 
presence, and let him suppose that she in- 
tended to leave the sword where it was for 
the present. But she went that same after- 
noon and brought it home herself. On the 
way she passed several Yankees who looked 
curiously at the weapon, and then at her, but 
said nothing. 

Bull Street, the favorite promenade in the 
city was abandoned by the ladies because it 
was frequented by negroes and Yankees. 
One afternoon Nelly, having a commission 
to execute on that street, was walking along 
accompanied by the Ranger, when a negro 
woman attempted rudely to push between her 
and the wall. The Texan seized the woman 
by the neck and slung her into the street 
with such a whirl that she spun round and 
round like a top, while they went on their 
way, though Nelly expected they would be 
arrested ; but the negro must have felt that 
her impertinence had been only justly re- 
warded, for nothing was done. 

Soon after this the two soldiers left for 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 23 1 

their respective homes. To the Texan, as 
he was to cross the Mississippi, beyond 
which we expected the war would still con- 
tinue and Confederate money be of value, 
she gave fifteen hundred dollars. Some 
months later he wrote her that he had bought a 
breakfast with it. 

In June a friend, who had just come from 
Mr. Annandale's place in North Georgia, told 
Nelly that Mr. Annandale was very ill, so 
she and Janet used every means to find a 
way to leave the city. They engaged a pas- 
sage on the Amazon, — a crazy old cotton- 
boat, without a cabin and in the most misera- 
ble condition, — but their friends protested so 
earnestly against their making the trip in 
such a concern, that they gave it up. Then 
they wished to go on the Jeff Davis, but 
were dissuaded as it was in as bad condition 
as was the Amazon. Finally after many 
wearisome delays and disappointments. Cap- 
tain Starr told them that in a week or two a 
new boat would go on a pleasure trip to 
Augusta, and they might go in that. They 
asked for transportation, which was at first re- 
fused and then given, and on the last week 
in June they went on board the Nantasket, 
bound for Augusta. 

Janet and Nelly had many acquaintances 
on the boat, among whom were four Confeder- 
ate soldiers, — three from Georgia and one 



2^2 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

from South Carolina. All were going home 
and would have had a pleasant time, but for 
the presence of a Yankee named French, 
who was a constant source of annoyance. 
This detestable old nuisance persecuted them 
with his conversation, and even patronizingly- 
offered some fruit to Nelly's little boy, Fred. 
The child was much insulted and indignantly 
refused it. 

As the ladies of the party were leaning 
over the railing and looking at the bare chim- 
neys and devastated plantations they were 
passing, this man walked up to them and 
smilingly remarked that the ** ruins contrib- 
uted much to the interest of the scene." No 
one noticed the observation, and he repeated 
it, adding that *'the place they were then 

passing belonged to Mr. , and that he, 

French, had been present at the burning of 
the house, and had, in fact, seen a great deal 
of that sort of thing as he had accompanied 
the army on its march through Georgia. 

" Sir," exclaimed one of the ladies, "if you 
will tell us on which side of the boat you 
intend to remain, we will be careful to stay on 
the other ! " 

*' Madam, madam," he said reprovingly, 
** it is wrong, it is unchristian, to allow your- 
self to become excited about this matter. 
These are the things of the past, and should 
be remembered only as the chastening needed 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 233 

to bring you back into the Union, which we 
cheerfully and prayerfully bestowed." 

'* Rewarding yourselves for your trouble by 
stealing whatever you could lay your hands 
on!" indignantly replied the lady, as the 
party moved to the other side, hoping to be 
rid of him, but he followed them and said : 

"You entirely misjudge us, Madam. Prov- 
idence placed many articles of value in our 
way, and had we not removed them to a 
place of safety, they would have been con- 
sumed by the flames. We but fulfilled an 
imperative duty." 

"You will now, I suppose," said she, 
"return to the owners what you have so 
generously saved for them." 

"No, Madam," he replied; "I have earnestly 
sought enlightenment on this subject, and it 
has been made clear to me that, as the servant 
is worthy of his hire, so my hire will amount 
to the full value of all that I have preserved, 
and I am, therefore, justly entitled to it." 

Then looking into the cabin, he saw the 
four young Confederates playing cards, and 
going towards them, he exclaimed : 

"Cards ! my dear young friends, let me 
entreat you not to peril your immortal souls 
in this unholy pastime !" 

The Confederates eyed him not very amia- 
bly, but continued the game without replying. 

*'0 unconverted spirits, I call upon you, in 



234 I^ ^N^ OUT OF THE LINES. 

my Master's name, to desist !" said he, with 
the regular Puritan snuffle. 

*'You blasphemous old scoundrel," replied 
the Carolinian; "shut up, and mind your own 
business !" 

"I forgive you, young man," said he 
meekly; -'I forgive you, and" — with expansive 
benevolence, <'will pray that your evil treat- 
ment of my admonition may not be laid up 
against you." 

The Carolinian got up and laid his 
hand on a chair. " You infernal old hypo- 
crite !" said he ; ''you are the biggest thief 
and liar unhung ! How dare you speak to a 
gentleman ! Stop ! Don't answer but listen 
to what I have to say ! You went to my 
father's house and plundered it. You stole 
his library and sent it North. You are a 
thief and ought to be in jail ! Now, if you 
ever again presume to open your mouth in 
my presence, your gray hairs shan't protect 
you. I'll break every bone in your body 
and give you something worth forgiving! 
Take yourself off instantly !" He lifted the 
chair as he saw French roll up his eyes as if 
preparing for another devout exhortation. 

French looked down, caught sight of the 
chair, and sneaked, whining to the Captain. 
The latter, a jolly, fat old man from Maine, 
told him to "let the boys alone, for they 
weren't doing any harm." 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



235 



French then came cringing up to the ladies, 
but on the approach of the Carolinian they 
effected a rapid retreat. Nelly and another 
lady went to the Captain and told him that 
the man's annoyances were really unbearable 
and asked to have them stopped. 

The Captain said he "had heard the con- 
versation and wondered how a man could 
talk to women folks about burning up their 
houses and taking things that way ; for his 
part, he could not do it. But you know," 
he continued, "he's thought a heap of in 
our army, and I've got to be civil to him. 
He shan't trouble you any more, however, and 
I'll advise him to keep out of that youngster's 
way." 

French was one of the luminaries of 
the Freedman's Bureau, his light being 
equalled only by that of his co-laborer, O. O. 
Howard. They were a worthy and a lovely 
pair, much given to "taking up their testi- 
mony against the right hand and left hand 
defections and backslidings of the times, 
anent which they uttered many cries and 
howls in this wilderness of sin and rebellion. 
The boat reached the wharf in the afternoon, 
but Nelly and Janet did not land until the 
next morning. Fred was very tired and one 
of the gentlemen carried him up the bluff 
where there was a quantity of dog fennel, 
nearly dried by the heat. The little fellow 



236 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 



picked his hands full and came back to his 
mother delighted with his odoriferous bou- 
quet. 

In the morning they landed, and met 
Bishop Elliott, who gave them advice and 
comfort such as no one else could give. 
Noble, Christian gentleman that he was ! He 
is gone, but through his past yet speaks, not 
only to those who knew and loved him, but 
to all to whom intellect, goodness and purity 
are more than mere names. 

Nelly and Janet travelled together as far as 
Union Point. Here they separated; Nelly 
to go to her home in the mountains, and 
Janet to come to us. At the village six miles 
from Mr. Annandale's place, the horses gave 
out. It was eleven o'clock at night, but the 
driver said that with a short rest and some 
food, they would be able to finish the journey 
without waiting till morning. 

It so happened that Sophy was payinga visit 
at the very house in front of which the hack 
had stopped. She heard the driver say some- 
thing about Mrs. Annandale, and running 
down the steps she flung open the carriage 
door and discovered Nelly, little Jean and 
Fred. 

Of course she went home with Nelly, but 
the next morning Lou and herself took advan- 
tage of the returning hack to reach the rail- 
road at Athens, from which place they joined 



IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 237 

US only a short time after Janet, who had 
gone by rail from Augusta to Marietta, and 
had traversed the rest of the way in a farm 
wagon. 

This ends the story of the most eventful 
year of our lives, but our sufferings were as 
nothing when compared to those inflicted 
upon the women of Virginia, East Tennessee 
Columbia and New Orleans. Inflicted, not as 
citizens, but especially designed for them as 
women. 

It was impressed upon us that our devotion 
to our cause was a crime for which we were 
to be punished to the utmost limits of our 
enemies' power. Is this to be forgotten ? Is 
it natural or even possible ? 

There will not be another war in our day, 
at least, and remembering the disastrous 
termination of our late efforts, I cannot wish 
that the struggle should ever be renewed. 
Do not think I wish to rake up old wrongs, 
and stir up old strifes. Far from it. "The 
past is with the eternal past," and I would 
that it, with all its miseries and unavenged 
cruelties, were swept into oblivion. 

But for the Southern woman there flows 
no such beneficent stream. The hearts that 
were wrung with anguish, yet beat ; the eyes 
that wept themselves into blindness, yet ache 
for the sight of the loved and lost. 

When the Southern woman loses her rev- 



238 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 

erence for truth and honor ; when her deep- 
est affections change with the shifting winds; 
when memories, sorrowful and bitter as the 
waters of death, are cast aside and forgotten, 
then, and not till then, can she tear from her 
heart's core the memory of our glorious past. 

THE END. 



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